the smiths
what's the world?
What would you sell ? Loose glasses and suit Heart and soul Won't wear out That's not enough ! I wonder what's inside Fish fillet knife Can cut Right through my eye I'm looking for some words To call my own Worn-out phrases And a hand-me-down They'll knock me Under where I stand Sad on his back In a corned beef pan Going under You can feel them pulling me down To the rust inside ... This is the way ... Franken-star is born Bits and pieces Others have worn All held together by a management glue Too much glue Watch the stars turn blue Turn blue Turn blue Turn blue Turn blue I'm going under You can feel them pulling me down To the halls of rust Eeh ... I, I, I