Waking her up
At 8 o’ clock
On a chilly Sunday morning
She received a call
From Heilongjiang
& I m sure she’s smiling
Still in her sleep
She hears a beep
& someone saying Hello
Who‘s this??
I hope it ain’t another miss
Coz the line is really troubling
He is crying out so loud
It’s like a bombshell up in the cloud
Who the hell will he tell?
The one that pain & everything in b/w that sells
He is Everyone’s fucking fear
He is the one that close & dear
The patron of the Insane
He can’t be Arnold Lane
Nobody held his hand, when he was stoned
If u ever heard his playing u won’t groan
He was the god of all the strings
He could kick some balls & he could sing
Sitting under some big tree
He would write & writ unless he is free
Looking at the world from his wide sees
He’d say “U r so fucked up that I couldn’t even preach”
Coz I am the St.Sion of the world
I am the one who makes my calls
It’s so hypocritical
We r so Metaphysical
Running away from life when we grow old
It like a search for some bloody Gold
I won’t say a thing tonight
I just want to hold u TIGHT
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