Early years
were a shroud man
Only a grey cloud
shot in the
Two sisters sighed
Said, "We might as well be lovers
We're so
Esme, could you shut the door
And put the oil lamp
They were failing dutifully
If you're going to fail at all
Failing
Your star is descending
'Round here blindly
Tell your dancing daughter
That ther
Some of the things a cowboy do
To make you howl
Happy birthday, Buddha
Happy hunting, happy hiding, happy New Year
I hope
She's going downtown
But she comes from uptown
Where the brokers and
Their legend lay in tatters
From Perth to John O'Groats
The Dead
Who cares aboutyour mystic liesIs it a claim to some
Who cares about
your mystic lies
Is it a claim to
Well, they sent back all the bodies
Who were looking really
You may be wary of fallen stars
They're always poking around
Home again, house sittin' again
Riflin' through
Your possessions and stuff
The t
When I first met youYou were not house trainedA backwoods
» More on The Auteurs