Gay Angel - Glory Days | Текст песни

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• Gay Angel
• Glory Days

take me back to new york city where the boys are green and the grass is pretty and the girls all wear their own suits complete with ties. take me back to new york city so i can play guitar in public and not get beaten down for not playing well.

oh, that sounds swell. in new york city i'll be doing very well.

there will be no more classical music and no more competition (although i still want there to be music with a violin). i want no reason to make people to pain (keep everybody a little closer-to-sane) and so all the people will keep raising their own arms. raising them to the sky, it offers them a choice for them to say what's on their mind and offers them a choice to make a life in their school (and take the same life in that very school).

so take me down to new york city where the boys aren't green and the girls aren't pretty and the ladies all wear sheets over their heads and their prescriptions as they shake in line to fill them up and the streets are all lined with gold.

but the saddest part about new york city is the way that the girls aren't even pretty and the men don't even have the penises you think you'd want to look for. oh, the people are all the same. oh, the people will never change. you could go all around the world and see that everyone's the same. they're all the same.

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