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Theatre of Tragedy - Image lyrics
You act a pansy, pushover Do live your fancy, go lower Who is that, something says your name You seem chancy, moreover The call is mine I’m gonna get you up I’m gonna get on top The call is mine On the skew, you're dancing all over You are the anti-fashion statement In a blue suit, orange pullover You look like my old dog Rover I’m gonna get you up I’m gonna get on top The call is mine Head crash - I can't see you Spit teeth - I can hear you I feel your pounding me onto the street I’ve learned to know the taste of concrete Why don't you follow me? Street brash - time flies, tick-tock Eyes flash - feels like electroshock I feel the blood gushing, crumbling away I know this marks the end of my hey-day Why don't you follow me |
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