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Romance sans paroles, Op. 38 No. 17, MWV U137

de Perry Farrell

Here we go
Got my hands onto something I could not touch
I'm a hard charger
If you lie for your breakfast
Then you won't get lunch
I'm a hard charger
I don't believe in dying

There's no such luck
Hard charger
I can't stay pretty
'Cause it's just no fun
Hard charger
People are people, now you know

I remember being cold blooded
Let me wrap my black tongue on your face
Wipe away all trace of space and time
Lick it up, up, up!
Oh

Got my hands onto something I could not touch
Hard charger
Lie for your breakfast
You won't get lunch
Hard charger
I don't believe in dying, no such luck

Hard charger
I can't stay pretty, man, it's just no fun
Hard charger
Come on like expensive wine
Friendly as a warm pinch on the titty
I'm so lucky, I let 'em win
That's how accustomed that I am to winning
Twist it up, up, up!
Oh

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