This is a funeral for us all, emptiness. There is no love, it's imaginary loneliness. To clutch at the hands that feed. Ooooh - let it bleed. . Yes, she kills with words.
Hey big boss man. You're stuck in a groove. You're on a roller coaster. You'd better stop. You're gonna burn, burn, burn. You'll do it again. . Pretty ballerina.
What is it, what is it. That keeps me hanging around your door, door?. What is it, what is it. That keeps me hanging around for some more of your love?.
In this town where I'm from. There's not a lot of things going on. You've got to use a little imagination. To get along. . So you go to a bar. And you talk to your friends.