All of those wild Americain bi-linguals
who talked to you in PAris,
of their lonely lives
schooldays and lost days
out there in the mid-west
they'd climb on the liners
to rejoin their wives
walking down boulevard, electric eyes,
would gaze at your wave-forms
and gasp at their size
let them be lonely and say you don't care
astroboy, watching the proles on parade
ulla with blonde hair
would stand by your side
and the friends who where hungry
could swallow your pride
chromium headsets whose video-screens
would show pictures of helplessness
old kings and queens
radio stations their faders in dust
all their transmitters now crumbling with rust
let them be broken
and say you don't care
atroboy watching the proles on parade
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
