Bin Bag Blues
Lyric #4036 by bassMonkey
Lyrics use permission note:
The free lyrics offered here may be used in the scope of private use.
If you would like to make use of the lyrics in a commercial context, please request permission from the author.
For details, read the Lyric license
The free lyrics offered here may be used in the scope of private use.
If you would like to make use of the lyrics in a commercial context, please request permission from the author.
For details, read the Lyric license
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Posts: 464
Joined: 2 dic 2020
When you step into Garbage town,
The rank odour will hit you first,
Spilling across the bin-bag mountains,
Ripe, rotten and ready to burst.
Here shells of people drift like mist,
All peely-wally, pallid and wan,
Infection spreads like warm margarine,
In a city-shaped garbage can.
Kids out to play in Garbage town,
With their sweet smiles cleansed of fear,
Find there's more than a ball to catch,
In a game of cricket here.
Street lamps flickering on and off,
As the dirty days slide to weeks,
Hope dies a death in piles of trash,
By a waterfall of oozing leaks.
The Kings and Queens of Garbage town,
Are now, strangely, not to be seen,
Hiding away from the mess they made,
With the ghosts of the fools they've been.
A riot of rats now rules this roost,
Grinning barbs through their yellowing teeth,
For every son to be seen up top,
There's twenty-five brothers beneath.
bassMonkey attached the following image:
The rank odour will hit you first,
Spilling across the bin-bag mountains,
Ripe, rotten and ready to burst.
Here shells of people drift like mist,
All peely-wally, pallid and wan,
Infection spreads like warm margarine,
In a city-shaped garbage can.
Kids out to play in Garbage town,
With their sweet smiles cleansed of fear,
Find there's more than a ball to catch,
In a game of cricket here.
Street lamps flickering on and off,
As the dirty days slide to weeks,
Hope dies a death in piles of trash,
By a waterfall of oozing leaks.
The Kings and Queens of Garbage town,
Are now, strangely, not to be seen,
Hiding away from the mess they made,
With the ghosts of the fools they've been.
A riot of rats now rules this roost,
Grinning barbs through their yellowing teeth,
For every son to be seen up top,
There's twenty-five brothers beneath.
bassMonkey attached the following image:
+2
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