Текст песни Ezra Furman - I Need the Angel
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I’m a hypnogogic terorrist. I’m a hypochondriac blessed with the knowledge of everyone who’s died and the way that they all dressed. I feel my bile rising like so many red blue jeans. Tell me baby, whatever happened to those twenty-something dreams? I must need the angel. She sure as hell don’t need me. I must need the angel so I can have a place to be. I’m in the excavator. I’m holding knives in my mouth. It’s out of obligation since I was forced to move down South. I’m in Port Chicago waiting for my angel to report. She’s got forty faces and her hair’s eight miles short. I must need the angel. She sure as hell don’t need me. I must need the angel so I can have a place to be. When I die, burn me to ash. Throw away everything I own. Let him play his trumpet. Don’t ever unlock my cell phone. If you hear these songs tonight and you think they might be about you, they probably are. Spare yourself some trouble. Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to. I must need the angel. She sure as hell don’t need me. I must need the angel so I can have a place to be. Okay? |