You gonna look fine
|
Be primed for dancing
|
You're gonna trip and glide
|
All on the trembling plane
|
Your diamond hands
|
Will be stacked with roses
|
And wind and cars
|
And people of the past
|
|
I'll call you thing
|
Just when the moon sings
|
And place your face in stone
|
Upon the hill of stars
|
And gripped in the arms
|
Of the changeless madman
|
We'll dance our lives away
|
In the Ballrooms of Mars
|
|
You talk about day
|
I'm talking 'bout night time
|
When the monsters call out
|
The names of men
|
Bob Dylan knows
|
And I bet Alan Freed did
|
There are things in night
|
That are better not to behold
|
|
You dance
|
With your lizard leather boots on
|
And pull the strings
|
That change the faces of men
|
You diamond browed hag
|
You're a gutter-gaunt gangster
|
John Lennon knows your name
|
And I've seen his
|
|
-----------------
|
Ballrooms Of Mars
|
T-Rex |