My fingers itch and so does my mind
I sit here with my guitar about to write music of some
Kind
The latest weeks of pasta has turned my belly into a
Balloon
And the lack of toilet-paper has made me look like a
Baboon
Maybe I should try to write a Mc Donaldґs-kind-of-song
Real easy to chew for everybody from Oslo to Hong Kong
The bills have to be paid and the dogs have to be fed
I dig and I dig for a profitable hookline in my head...
But when we think we got it
Our million dollar hit
We throw the chords around a bit
And no one understands it
Itґs kinda hard to admit
Our expected monster hit
Has turned into a pile of shit
And no one understands it
No one understands it...
1 | Speak when spoken to |
2 | Some Kind Of Love Song |
3 | Propaganda Pie |
4 | Snap |
5 | Independent Way Of Life |
6 | Sick? (Death By Hypochondria) |
7 | Lisa |
8 | Mussolini mind |
9 | Michael And The Syndrome |
10 | A Regular Guy |