Tytuł: Fuel

• Wykonawca: Ani Difranco
• Wyświetleń: 466

they were digging a new foudation in Manhattan
  and they discovered a slave cemetary there
  may their souls rest easy
  now that lynching is frowned upon
  and we've moved on to the electric chair
  and i wonder who's gonna be president, tweedle dum or tweedle dummer?
  and who's gonna have the big blockbuster box office this summer?
  howabout we put up a wall between houses and the highway
  and you can go your way , and i can go my may
  
  except all the radios agree with all the tvs
  and all the magazines agree with all the radios
  and i keep hearing that same damn song everywhere i go
  maybe i should put a bucket over my head
  and a marshmallow in each ear
  and stumble around for
  another dumb- dumb waiting for another hit song to appear
  
  people used to make records
  as in a record of an event
  the event of people playing music in a room
  now everything is cross-marketing
  its about sunglasses and shoes
  or guns and drugs
  you choose
  we got it rehashed
  we got it half-assed
  we're digging up all the graves
  and we're spitting on the past
  and you can choose between the colors
  of the lipstick on the whores
  cause we know the difference between
  the font of 20% more
  and the font of teriakiyi
  you tell me
  how does it...make you feel?
  
  you tell me
  what's ...real?
  and they say that alcoholics are always alcoholics
  even when they're as dry as my lips for years
  even when they're stranded on a small desert island
  with no place within 2,000 miles to buy beer
  and i wonder
  is he different?
  is he different?
  has he changed? what's he about?...
  or is he just a liar with nothing to lie about?
  
  Am i headed for the same brick wall
  is there anything i can do about
  anything at all?
  except go back to that corner in Manhattan
  and dig deeper, dig deeper this time
  down beneath the impossible pain of our history
  beneath unknown bones
  beneath the bedrock of the mystery
  beneath the sewage systems and the path drain
  beneath the cobblestones and the water mains
  beneath the traffic of friendships and street deals
  beneath the screeching of kamikaze cab wheels
  beneath everything i can think of to think about
  beneath it all, beneath all get out
  beneath the good and the kind and the stupid and the cruel
  there's a fire just waiting for fuel
  
  there's a fire just waiting for fuel
  there's a fire just waiting for fuel
  there's a fire just waiting for fuel
  there's a fire just waiting for fuel
  there's a fire just waiting for fuel
  there's a fire just waiting for fuel
  there's a fire just waiting for fuel
  there's a fire just waiting for fuel
  there's a fire just waiting for fuel
  there's a fire just waiting for fuel
  there's a fire just waiting for fuel
  there's a fire just waiting for fuel
  there's a fire just waiting for fuel