
Date of issue: 11.11.2012
Song language: English
Catch A Fallen Star |
Black rings round your eyes |
And you’re spewing your lies |
That you know is your old routine |
Spilling your drink |
With a nudge and wink |
As you boast about people you’ve been |
Smoking your cigarette |
Down to the butt |
And your teeth are as black as the tar |
You tell them at sex |
You’re a stud in the bed |
As you hang for your life on the bar |
And you see your own peak |
On the top of the mountain |
Of bodies you trod on to get there |
Shit on me, shit on her |
Shit on you in the end |
And they won’t even lend you the bus fare |
Now you’re boring the pants off |
The tart on the dance-floor |
As you tell her the person you once were |
She just sees you as trash |
But she creams at the cash |
That you might pay just to grope her |
And this town is a potpourri of disease |
Can you smell the herpes from the scum-sucking fucks |
That hang around the same suckers each mid-night |
You were being your photo |
And spouting your promo |
Flicking back your limp quiff |
That’s as limp as your dick |
Irritating your greedy cross-eyed sight |
Oh Christ and you’re greasing up now |
To the creepy old cow |
That would sell out your mother and besides |
Your sell-out assured |
You were always a whore |
And you’ve always been taken for long rides |
At the smell of the bribe |
You go jelly inside |
As you step up the gold ladder to big time |
Kick them on the way up, kick you on the way down |
And you’ll need them all again in good time |
Your friend is the «yes» man |
Who sits by your side |
With his hand in your pocket all the time |
And he’s messing your head |
Tries to get you in bed |
Well it’s all masturbation of a kind |
What you earn, heaven knows |
It goes straight up your nose |
And you strangle your health in the end |
And you’re blinded by bull |
And you’ve really been full |
And it’s driving you straight round the bend |
And you’re told that a smile is so worth your while |
Its what «yes» men call diplomacy |
It’ll get you the goal |
But while losing the soul |
You’re forgetting the quality |
And you heave on your drink |
As you’re starting to think |
That all that shines may not be lam |
But a cheap substitute |
That’ll give you the boot |
You’re just a stiff at a funeral party |
Where you slouch on the bar |
With your arm in the beer |
Wearing yesterday’s mascara today |
And it runs when you cry about living a lie |
And the lie’s starting to fade away |
Fade away |
Fade away |
Name | Year |
---|---|
Vision | 2012 |
Gloomy Sunday | 2012 |
The Bulls | 2012 |
In My Room | 2012 |
Empty Eyes | 2012 |
Torment | 2012 |
Angels | 2012 |
Untitled | 2012 |
Big Louise | 2010 |
Caroline Says | 2012 |
Terrapin | 2010 |
Fun City | 2016 |
Sleaze | 2010 |
The Animal In You | 2010 |
Boss Cat | 2010 |
(Your Love Is A) Lesion | 2010 |
My Little Book Of Sorrows | 2010 |
My Former Self | 2012 |
Your Aura | 2012 |
Narcissus | 2012 |