I wake up and I can't feel my body
Can't create
I'm ready to gloom, I'm ready to go
Got Madonna blaring
Leave you to your desert in my old dusty pickup
Think
And after the fall
there was nothing at all
but you to
She was on a western course,
Her final tour de force,
There
In days of your when I was always right
And there
Driving on a newfound road
I’m riding down my favorite road
Hand’s
Feeling New York
Brush through my hair
We fall for East Village
But
Here’s a man
Who cannot hear a sound
His poor heart’s pumping
She comes, she comes inside me
Says I fuck somnambulantly
And the
I say it won't work boy
You've done too many drugs
They've
Caught myself crushing through
That stormy old school
Autumn was everywhere
Wher
I am the African of 1963
Transformed to a millennium man
But
Father's a man like any man
He’s knitting his yarn till
You can't love yourself
In a cheap motel,
It gets hard to
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