|
sucker without a brain
|
nothin to do again
|
step into the street
|
like the man on a flying trapeze
|
|
here comes that bus
|
right into your face
|
now you're flying
|
now you're flying home
|
|
isn't it just like a dream
|
sirens and people and everything
|
the driver tried to swerve
|
but he just didn't see ya
|
now you're buried 'neath the wheel
|
just like a tortilla
|
|
here comes that bus
|
right into your face
|
now you're flying
|
now you're flying home
|
|
when we're dead we can all climb aboard
|
the fare is easy to afford
|
sometimes you meet a fireman
|
sometimes you meet a dancer
|
this is one ride where you won't need no transfer
|
|
here comes that bus
|
right into your face
|
|
|
|
-----------------
|
Sucker Without a Brain
|
| Beck |
