Red Hot Chili Peppers Death Of A Martin
Bear paws and rascal power
Watching us in your garage
Big girl you ate the neighbor
The nova is over
Wake up and play
Balleradio
Make room for Clara's bare feet
The love of a Martian
Tick tock and waiting for the meteor
This clock is opening another door
Lots of love just keep it comin'
Making something out of nothin'
These are the best that I
I don't know how to say
Losin' what I love today
These are the best that I
Lots of love just keep it comin'
Making something out of nothin'
These are the best that I
I don't know [what] to say
[Look at] what I've lost today
And these are the things that I
Blood flowers in the kitchen
Signing off and winding down
This martain ends her mission
The nova is over
She caught the ball
By the mission bell
Chase lizards bark at donkeys
The love of a martian
Let's bow our head
And let the trumpets blow
Our girl is gone
God bless her little soul
Lots of love just keep it comin'
Making something out of nothin'
These are the best that I
I don't know how to say
Losin' what I love today
These are the best that I
Lots of love just keep it comin'
Making something out of nothin'
These are the best that I
I don't know what to say
[Look at] what I've lost today
And these are the things that I
She's got a sword in case though this is not her lord
in case the one who can't afford to face her image is
restored to grace. Disappeared. No trace. Musky tears.
Suitcase. The down turn brave little burncub
bearcareless turnip snare rampages pitch color
pages...down and out but not in Vegas. Disembarks and
disengages. No loft. Sweet pink canary cages plummet
pop dewskin fortitude for the sniffing black noses that
snort and allude to the dangling trinkets that mimic
the dirt cough go drink its. It's for you. Blue
battered naval town slip kisses delivered by duck
muscles and bottlenosed grifters arrive in time to
catch the late show. It's a beehive barrel race. A
shehive stare and chase wasted feature who tried and
failed to reach her. Embossed beneath a box in the
closet that's lost. The kind that you find when you
mind your own business. Shiv sister to the quickness
before it blisters into the newmorning milk blanket.
Your ilk is funny to the turnstyle touch bunny whose
bouquet set a course for bloom without decay. get your
broom and sweep echoes of yesternights fallen
freckles...AWAY!!!
