In the concrete valleys the electric storm.
|
We members of the midnight circus,
|
Our bodies so brightly adorn
|
In your long sedans and your Oldsmobiles,
|
Through that slit in your face, you ask me,
|
How it feels.
|
Can you hear me, can you hear me,
|
I'm a-telling you again.
|
Daughters of Satan all stand in line,
|
With faces greased and a mouth full of shine.
|
With iron hand you bruise the flesh,
|
Then through a closing door you ask,
|
Pray why the distress.
|
Hear me, can you hear me, can you.
|
Midnight sailors can stay,
|
We won't send you away,
|
See me here on my knees.
|
You lie in the alley, with blood on your clothes.
|
As fingers round your throat they close.
|
Your cries of murder, splash on the walls
|
As you die, you think about the injustice of it all.
|
Can you hear me ...
|
Hear me ...
|
See Satan's daughters' red light,
|
They have such good appetites,
|
Another clown packs his drag ...
|
|
-----------------
|
CRIES FROM THE MIDNIGHT CIRCUS
|
Pretty Things |