Por El Suelo (Esperando La Ú¬Tima Ola)
(M. Doughty)
Moon Sammy walks. Across the floor. Below the floor. There is a wall.
Behind the wall. There is a chair. Moon Sammy knows. The chair is
there.
But that's OK, that's OK, you can do that--if you're wound up, full of
tension,
incoherent. Your mouth is buttered with lies; you ask why, but you
could
call it enigmatic; all your thoughts about the chair are full of
static.
Automatically your mind goes down the stairwell to the chair; your
body
says Moon Sammy, can you come back?
Strum it.
Moon Sammy washes. In the sink. Below the sink. There is a
Moon Sammy walks. Across the floor. Below the floor. There is a wall.
Behind the wall. There is a chair. Moon Sammy knows. The chair is
there.
But that's OK, that's OK, you can do that--if you're wound up, full of
tension,
incoherent. Your mouth is buttered with lies; you ask why, but you
could
call it enigmatic; all your thoughts about the chair are full of
static.
Automatically your mind goes down the stairwell to the chair; your
body
says Moon Sammy, can you come back?
Strum it.
Moon Sammy washes. In the sink. Below the sink. There is a
Kick Your Door Down
1,2,3,4
Your radio is playing rather loud
It don't sound like me
Your attitude seems so proud
That don't bother me
I'm gonna keep on knocking
Gonna keep on pounding
I'm gonna knock I'm gonna pound
I'm gonna knock I'm gonna pound
I'm gonna kick your door down
Gonna kick your door down
I wonder what goes on
Behind closed doors
I'm waiting outside your door
Don't enter more