| Emptiness dead-smooth and choking the air
|
| I´m, leaving Hollywood if you don´t care
|
| lost in the twilight of self-consciousness
|
| trying to picture the smile you might wear
|
| Where are the plastic doves ready to kill
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| the inspiration I try to fulfill
|
| Cry for me sister on Valentine´s day
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| you´ll find me lying on Hollywood Hills
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| Spoke to an acolyte coming my way
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| the weather is fine what a wonderful day
|
| his bloody robe suits him tolerably well
|
| but he can never induce me to stay
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| Your double-dealing voice hits me so low
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| but I´m your henchman so I have to go nobody sees that I´m only your frame
|
| when I left Hollywood they all will know
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| Someday you gonna crucify me in a black-painted room
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| you gonna call all your opponents who gonna spit me in the face hit me in the
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| face
|
| and I will laugh about everyone
|
| I´d cover my mug if I could
|
| Emptiness dead-smooth and choking the air
|
| I´m leaving Hollywood if you don´t care
|
| lost in the twilight of self-consciousness
|
| trying to picture the smile you might wear
|
| trying to picture the smile you might wear
|
| trying to picture the smile you might wear |