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32 Weeks

de Mekons

Staying up all night
In a motel room
And the alchemy must make sense to me
Heaped up powders, bottles and tubes
It's all gone upside down
It never turns to gold
I came so close but it slipped away
(He guards his actions, guards his words)

It makes no difference
Now I've come this far
They send narcotics agents
To catch a falling star

It's throbbing so hard
Like a funeral march
Twenty years I've been on this road
Out Of control when the hammer comes down

When the hammer comes down
Something has to be done
And this is as good as anything
(He guards his actions guards his words)

It makes no difference
All that work and stuff
I know that there's a place
When things start getting rough

Throbbing so hard
Like a funeral march
Kick away the chair

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