Massive Attack - Yes, shall we take a spin again in business? This time is fixed, let's sweeten our facilities It took all the man in me To be the dog you wanted me to be Shall we take a spin again, no witnesses? This time is fixed seven three seven is You won't | Текст песни
Yes, shall we take a spin again in business? This time is fixed, let's sweeten our facilities It took all the man in me To be the dog you wanted me to be Shall we take a spin again, no witnesses? This time is fixed seven three seven is You won't
Yes, shall we take a spin again in business? This time is fixed, let's sweeten our facilities It took all the man in me To be the dog you wanted me to be
Shall we take a spin again, no witnesses? This time is fixed seven three seven is You won't feel a thing Begging until you give it up insane
Fish like little silver knives Make the cuts on my inside Yeah, let him feast my heart is big, my heart is big My blood will slide in metal studs
Tourniquet will hold its groove Tourniquet will keep its grip It took all the man in me To be the dog you wanted me to be
Yeah, let him feast my heart is big My heart is big, my blood will slide You let him feast my heart is big My heart is big, my blood will slide
Got nothing to lose but my chains Internet feeds on my brains Head in the sand, feet in the clay And time is still like grease it slips Sucking in, spitting pips, yeah, spitting pips
Nothing to lose but my chains Internet beats on my brains Head in the sand, feet in the clay A place to piece, a place to pray
A little money should get me on my feet This gun of smoke is slaying me And time is still like grease it slips Sucking in, spitting pips, yeah, spitting pips
My heart was big and like my pride Let them feast on my insides And when the filled had spilled its guts Gently open then it shuts
I'm in the hole three thousand days A buried soul They live the dream in terminal No war too mean
I know the drill, got cells to burn, I'm dressed to kill A mortal coil and time is still on secret soil Yeah, pay the bills, cells to burn, mouths to fill On Boeing jets in the sunset make glowing threats