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Fame Throwa

de Pavement

Fame thrower pass out the gold
The diamond watch, the last reward
All the things we hid before you sold us out and took it all
Head-borne cries from zenith sluts
Astral rites from dead-end ruts
And these ends are sick-end wars
These ends were sick and wars

He's one of our nation's spies
He's one of our first recruits
I click with her leather thighs
One of our first recruits

How can you know?
In the distance lies a grower
Née rude-off, king fame thrower
Son of groupie, bed-worn sexon
Spent his cash convincing us that the desert was a star-scape
Took our lives for a satellite so we could cry
Naked, naked foul

He's one of our nation's spies
He's one of our first recruits
I click with her leather thighs
One of our first recruits

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