Theatre of Tragedy - Image - Sözleri

You act a pansy, pushover

Who is that, something says your name

You seem chancy, moreover

Do live your fancy, go lower



The call is mine

I'm gonna get you up

The call is mine

I'm gonna get on top



On the skew, you're dancing all over

In a blue suit, orange pullover

You are the anti-fashion statement

I'm gonna get on top



You look like my old dog Rover

I'm gonna get you up

The call is mine

Spit teeth - I can hear you



Head crash - I can't see you

I feel your pounding me onto the street

I've learned to know the taste of concrete



Why don't you follow me?



I feel the blood gushing, crumbling away

Eyes flash - feels like electroshock

Street brash - time flies, tick-tock

I know this marks the end of my hey-day

Why don't you follow me



														   

														   











		
			



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