Songtexte:
Flöte S

Got to put paid to twenty-six winters Trying to make the most in bed with the shivers All the frustrations growing pains Gather us up in circle games

: De Fescher's lavten em hellije Kolle et wor'en Familich vun ech kolscher Art. Mer schreff de Zick su kootvor Elfhundert et Levve trof se hatt. D'r

tub This may sound strange to you It feels so nice when you rub rub Open my hands to the moon Splishing and splashing and wishing and rushing It's more

Hey, kids, where you been? I hope not out killing again What's that I see in your coat What's that scar from on your throat Film yourself ruin anybodies

, for my deviation See me, are you surprised I symbolize all you despise Never, never your faithful pawn You run your rat race, it's that I spit upon

, then pay off the cops It's greed that motivates them and only death will make them stop Guilt tool of the trade, you crushed someone's mind To get

the ground Swarms of rumbling bumble bees, consume the frantic crowd Seething, breeding mescaline drench the pretty girls Boredom for excuse, there's

Originally performed by Elton John It's getting late have you seen my mates Ma tell me when the boys get here It's seven o'clock and I want to rock Want

conflicting with the machine The machine that's run so long Suffer the masses, contradicting views inside Suffer the masses, the personality divides Suffer the masses, what's