| The thought of one more night like this gives you chills
|
| Davids and gargoyles guard your black iron gates
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| But panhead purrs are echoing through the hills
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| Flying to free you from your humdrum fate
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| Bells ring when things get out of hand
|
| And barbarian kings come crash your paradise
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| Love beads lie buried deep in your fake fur vest
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| White wax stalagmites stretch to reach their flames
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| The idle heirs of oil and the golden west
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| Feed parasitically on front page names
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| Bells ring when things get out of hand
|
| And barbarian kings come crash your paradise
|
| A bolex whirs alive to preserve the scene
|
| Black beauties fuel the flesh machines
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| The dreams of a thousand teenaged focus groups
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| All tested, polled, and screened
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| Your tumbler cracks apart on the marble floor
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| To form an iridescent yellow lake
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| Drown all your senses don’t worry anymore
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| Now life’s the same in dreams or wide awake
|
| Bells ring when things get out of hand
|
| And barbarian kings come crash your paradise |