Marc Almond lyrics
Marc Almond lyrics
"The Bulls lyrics"
Island In The Sun lyrics
Hip hip Hip hip Hip hip Hip hip When you're on a holiday You can't find the words to say All the things that come to you And I wanna
Hip hip Hip hip Hip hip Hip hip When you're on a holiday You can't find the words to say All the things that come to you And I wanna
On Sundays the bulls get so bored When they're asked to show off for us There is the sun, the sand, and the arena There are the bulls ready to bleed for us It's time when grocery clerks Become Don Juan And all the ugly girls Turn into swans Who can say what he's found That bull who turns and paws thUnderground Army lyricse ground And suddenly he sees himself all nude Who can say what he dreams That bull who hears the silent screams From the open mouths of multitudes On Sundays the bulls get so bored When they're asked to suffer for us There are the picadors and the mobs revenge There are the toreros and the mob's revenge, there are the toreros - an
gang from the suburbs, in the underground they're punching and kicking everyone around don't give me none of your 2-faced shit don't agitate me cause thisThe Pictures Perfect lyricsd the mob kneels for us It's time when grocery clerks become Garcia-Lorca And the girls put the roses in their teeth Like Carmen On Sundays the bulls get so bored When they're asked to drop dead for us The sword will plunge down And the mob will drool The blood will poor down And turn the sand to mud It's time when grocery clerks
I write alone now that you're gone And it's nothing I studied all you've said and done and it's nothing The pictures perfect There's no time INot Home Anymore lyricsBecome Nero And the girls scream And shout the name of their hero And when finally they fell Did the bulls dream of a hell Where men and worn out matadors Still burn And perhaps with their last breath Would they pardon us their death Knowing what we did at Carthage, Waterloo, Verdon, Stalingrad, Iwoa Jima , Hiroshima, Saigon
I slept in our room nice wall I slept with our ghosts painting the walls now our happiness hung there like a stake or a light truly you