Powderfinger "Inner City Blues" |
Going down a dirty inner city side road I plotted Madness passed me by, she smiled hi I nodded Looked up as the sky began to cry She shot it Met a girl from Dearborn, early six o'clock this morn A cold fact Asked about her bag, suburbia's such a drag Won't go back Coz Papa don't allow no new ideas here And now he sees the news, but the picture's not too clear, yeah Well Mama, Papa, stop Treasure what you got Soon you may be caught Without it The curfew's set for eight Will it ever all be straight I doubt it 7 jealous fools playing by her rules Can't believe her He feels so in between, can't break the scene It would grieve her And that's the reason why he must cry He'll never leave her Alright Oh now, crooked children, yellow chalk Writing on the concrete walk Their king died Drinking from a Judas cup Looking down but seeing up Sweet red wine Coz Papa won't allow no new ideas here And now he hears the music But the words don't sound too clear, yeah Well Mama, Papa, stop Treasure what you got Soon you may be caught Without it The curfew's set for eight Will it ever all be straight I doubt it Going down a dusty, Georgian side road I wonder The wind splashed in my face Can smell a trace Of thunder Alright Oh the wind splashed in my face Can smell a trace Of thunder He feels so in between, can't break the scene It would grieve her Lyric from www.lyricmania.com |