sábado, 26 de junho de 2010

Western Postcolonial Hangover

Lord hear me now
Junk boats and english boys
Crashing out in super marts
Electric fences and guns
You swallow me
I'm just a pill on your tongue
Up here on the nineteenth floor
The neon lights make me come
And late in a star's life
It begins to explode
And all the people in a dream
Wait for the machine
Pick the shit up leave it clean
Kid, hang over here
What you learning in school?
Is the rise of an Eastern sun
Gonna be good for everyone?
The radio station disappears
Music turning to thin air
The DJ was the last to leave
She had well conditioned hair,
was beautiful, but nothing really was there
by Gorillaz

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