I don't know what it is That keeps me coming back to this old place Must be your face Sometimes I want to run Sometimes I want to run and hide Time ain
Traduction: Not By Choice. Cette ancienne place.
speech:] What is this?? Is this not America? This is not China! This is not Russia! This is not the place where they brought down the wall, this is America
played practical jokes on everybody smoked with they locs and the yolks on All through high school, girls by the dozens Sayin we cousins, knowin that we wasn't But like the old
And you say to yourself just what am I doin' On this road I'm walkin', on this trail I'm turnin' On this curve I'm hanging On this pathway I'm strolling
on fire yeah and I'm every bitch's dream One, two I'm coming for you, I'm a big old (big old) Nightmare! Nigga this the slaughter stepping up I'll
write the solution of biophysics On the side of a cliff and some hieroglyphics This my admission to having violence psychotic With the vile polish politics by
the Rolls screamin', "Fuck the police!" Peelin' out in front the club, about to duck to the east Now play yourself, you gon' find yourself by yourself In a nice place
sing. For a gold ring he placed on my finger Saying love bear this in your mind If ever I sail from old Ireland You'll mind I'll not leave you behind
And I know, This is no way to treat a guest But why don't you grab your old lady by the feet And just lay her out in the darkest street And by morning
say yes Funny place for the social, for the insects to start caring Just an ambulance at the bottom of a cliff In these plagued streets of pity you can by
Produced by Steve Schram, and recorded at Sing Sing Studios in the bands home town of Melbourne, this is an album which shows The Cat Empire at their
you'd expect to be walkin' alone Far too beautiful and intelligent Not to have someone to call her own By circumstance there is no choice She does just
guess I won't and I know this ain't no way to treat a guest But why don't you grab your old lady by the feet? And just lay her out on the darkened street
to the music of 21 guns The flowers are dead and of this by the bed of the place where the old woman died it's the same place where she started her
filthy trash Even though we live better and make mo' cash Than they do, I'm not a no-good thug Standin on the corner sellin drugs And just remember, this ain't multiple choice