Из альбома: Addicted to Bad Ideas: Peter Lorre's Twentieth Century
He without sin, leave home
Licking my lips, running stoned
Wherever you spit, cops, we run
Endless streets, we run
With a good criminal heart
Hinting at things best left unknown
The spine of the world is rusting
But rusting to gold
He without sin, leave home
Licking my lips, running stoned
Wherever you spit/piss, cops, we run
Endless streets, we run
Things are ready to explode
Meanness breeds anger
Exaltation in self-defense
What sounds like bad press is praise to my ears
Censorship of vulgarity
Don't take it so god-damned seriously
Who cares anyhow
Can't you just tell where this grin comes from
He without sin, leave home
Licking my lips, running stoned
Wherever you spit, cops, we run
Endless streets, we run
Are you without sin, leave home
What lips, cheekbones
Wherever you spit/piss, cops, we run
Endless streets, we run
Werewolves burning books
The best part of myself, my own
The concert has begun
Nowhere for you to
He without sin, leave home
Licking my lips, running stoned
Wherever you trip, cops, we run
Endless streets, we run