Black car wrong side of the road Saying look out jack We're taking him home To his promised land We're taking him home To his promised land See the woman
I am thinking it's a sign that the freckles In our eyes are mirror images and when We kiss they're perfectly aligned And I have to speculate that God
I am thinking it's a sign That the freckles in our eyes Are mirror images And when we kiss they're perfectly aligned And I have to speculate That God
I must be feeling low I talked to god in a phonebox on my way home I told you my answer I left you my dreams on your answering machine Come on Let the
I've seen a man on the corner Preaching of his god I've seen another that doesn't want The burden of his cross But I stand dead in the centre with nothing
yen for play While you broke niggaz reach drunk much quicker You don't make enough bread to soak up all your liquor Went from God to God damn Damn God
of... uhm... three French horns... uh... (The Wolf! It's the Wolf!) Right! The Wolf. Seymore the Wolf.... The kettle drum and bass drum represent the sub-machine
Hey now here we go let's start the show Those that know me call me 'Lo But you can call me The Soul Machine Watch, see what I mean? Four million flavors
Hey now here we go let's start the show Supposed to only call me 'Lo But you can call me The Soul Machine Watch ? HEEEEYYYY YYEEAAAA ? See what I mean
Feed amber waves of grains To lesser human beings, zero feelings Blame it on Human nature, mans destiny (mans destiny) Blame it on the greediocracy (greediocracy) Fear of god
Further Information: -------------------- KLF D.J. Report: Chill Out was recorded live on location at Trancentral (the spiritual home of the KLF). Don
numb niggas, ya don't feel shit, nigga You ain't on no real shit, nigga '94 still in the door and we conquered many tours With Rage Against Tthe Machine
playing in my pants Yea ball game-I swear the hoes wasn't in my plans When a nigga took a chance and came to the big city My beat machine the only fucking
you smoke then hey y'all I'm never faired up I got some lead what And keeps some chicks in my whips And they always just fuck my head up I'm like whatever God
operate in all aspects Of organized crime and if There's one thing i'm sure of, it's that Drugs destroy your mind and destroy Your home in the end it
stranger, super freak hot blast The hard drop rip is a hostile swing Kiss my Redemption with a fist full of sting Swift with the gifts, it's the God
man upstairs, funerals for fear Confusion, nervous hands from a scared wife knittin Siblings infants weepin, continous tear drippin Impaled men please God let them cease Come home
God, what's up nigga? I'm glad you home So we could, take over the world, it's ours to own Stars that bone from the ghetto, to cars and homes Laced out
