Elliott Smith (5. Figure 8, 2000) - 3. Junk Bond Trader | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Elliott Smith (5. Figure 8, 2000)
• 3. Junk Bond Trader

The imitation picks you up like a habit
Riding in the glow of the TV static,
Taking out the trash to the man,
Give the people something they understand.

Mistake a nervous flash for a fine line smile,
Junk bond trader trying to sell a sucker a stock.
Rich man in a poor man's clothes,
The permanent installment of the daily dose.

And you tell me, fool, you tell it like it is,
Your word's gone wider than your headtrip is.
Checking into a small reality
Void as a drug you take too regularly.

The athlete's laugh, the broken crutch,
The first true love folded at the slightest touch,
Brought down like an old hotel.
People digging through the rubble for things they can resell.

"Happy holidays", said Sid the Saviour,
Believe in love, I still favour.
I won't take your medicine, I don't need a remedy
To be everything I'm supposed to be.
I don't want nobody else, I can do it by myself,
We're meant to be together.

Now I'm a policeman directing traffic,
Keeping everything moving, everything static.
I'm the hitchhiker you'll recognize passing
On your way to some everlasting.
Better sell it while you can...