| All that I’ve come to feeling
|
| Is a plastic wig???
|
| All that is grown
|
| Is a plastic doll
|
| Days so excited
|
| All is just the things
|
| All, all
|
| Come down and see us win
|
| Keepers caught in clear???
|
| All those good times
|
| Is it much too fast
|
| Deep inside the train
|
| So imagination takes you there
|
| And it’s something strange
|
| And it’s something strange
|
| And it’s something strange
|
| And it’s something strange
|
| And it’s something strange
|
| And it’s something strange
|
| And it’s something strange
|
| And it’s something strange
|
| This evil always locked away inside
|
| 'Cos I don’t think I’ve ever felt so hypnotized
|
| I’m scared
|
| And Justified
|
| And did you care
|
| With your nose stuck in the air
|
| That the messages were clear
|
| Angelo Nero you’re here
|
| And it’s a big decision down by the corn field
|
| Yeah he’s just poison — oh the mother’s milk
|
| And only for the reason that was how he felt
|
| And he did he care
|
| That his arrogance was clear
|
| And the messages were clear
|
| Had some injustice done
|
| Had some injustice done and it’s a deep incision
|
| In the reach of the circumcise
|
| A single penetration enough to satisfy
|
| A little consolation for the ripped insides
|
| And the liquid moved as she opened up the scar
|
| A deep, richer red, just like a racing car
|
| Such a sight to see
|
| A real emergency
|
| Angelo Nero you’re here
|
| Angelo Nero you’re here
|
| Angelo Nero you’re here
|
| Angelo Nero you’re here
|
| One likes to believe in the freedom of music
|
| Begin the day with a friendly voice
|
| A companion, unobtrusive
|
| Plays that song that’s so elusive
|
| And the magic music makes your morning mood
|
| Off on your way
|
| Hit the open road
|
| There is magic at your fingers
|
| And the music that ever lingers
|
| Undemanding contact
|
| In your happy solitude
|
| Invisible airwaves crackle with life
|
| Bright antennae bristle with the energy
|
| Emotional feedback on a timeless wavelength
|
| Bearing a gift beyond life that’s almost free
|
| All this machinery is making modern music
|
| Can still be open-hearted
|
| Not so coldly charted
|
| It’s really just a question of your honesty
|
| Yeah your honesty
|
| One likes to believe in the freedom of music
|
| But glittering prizes and endless compromises
|
| Shatter the illusion of integrity
|
| Invisible airwaves crackle with life
|
| Bright antennae bristle with the energy
|
| Emotional feedback on a timeless wavelength
|
| Bearing a gift beyond life that’s almost free
|
| And the words of the profits are written on the studio walls, concert hall
|
| Echoes with the sounds of salesmen
|
| Of salesmen
|
| Freedom to believe
|
| Freedom to believe
|
| Freedom to believe |