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It was christmas eve, I was standin in the parking lot Of "fabulous girls, nude - nude - nude" In the car next to me there was a young lady givin a blow-job To a man in a santa claus suit His beard was crooked, his hat askew Embarrassed, I turned to go When from the back seat of that mazda I heard somebody shout "oh baby, dont Stop" And a merry "ho-ho-ho" When I walked inside, I ordered a beer and a double shot of whisk And in three minutes I had fallen in love The dj announced "ladies and gentlemen, from forth worth, texas: lady godiva" And I sat and worshipped neath the angel above At the end of her set she brushed her hair Came and sat on the stool to my right And said "will you buy me a drink? " My heart beats fast, my trousers grew tight And wittily I replied "uhhh...." She showed me a picture of her kid Said during the day shes an art student She dances six nights a week for slobs and idiots like this Of course, present company excluded. On donner, on dancer, on comet, on blitzen Im lost in the valley of the supervixens Worshippin at the feet of the goddess above Im a pilgrim in the temple of love, ma, just a pilgrim in the temple Of love Well then santa came stumblin in, and somebody shouted "hey santa, wheres your elves? " He sat down on the stool to my left And the bartender took a vodka bottle of the shelf He asked if mrs. claus had called To tell her he worked on the late shift at the mall And he was sorry, but he just got through I turned and I asked him: "hows the kid this year, santa? " Beneath his breath he whispered "a merry fuck you" Well then the owner come over and he was a short gfat ugly guy With a funny kind of pushed-in face He shook my hand and said it was the first time Theyd ever had a real superstar in this place Lady godiva bought me a few drinks And words came out of my mouth What they were, I couldnt guess But it was something about showgirls, lapdancing, motley crue You can guess the rest Well I walked outside, snow was falling I had some toys to put together - it was christmas time Santa followed me into the parking lot And threw up on the hood of the car next to mine I gave him my handkerchief, pulled out onto the highway And as I sat at the light I swear I saw a sleigh with a dozen of reindeers Pull up out of the parking lot and cut across the mall And a voice shouted "merry christmas to all you assholes And to all a good fucking night!"
Прямая ссылка на текст песни Pilgrim in The Temple of Love: http://musworld.ru/music/eng/101/1/454.html » Bruce Springsteen - Viva Las Vegas » Bruce Springsteen - Open All Night » Bruce Springsteen - Ramrod » Bruce Springsteen - Where The Bands Are » Bruce Springsteen - Point Blank » Bruce Springsteen - Streets Of Philadelphila » Bruce Springsteen - Dont Look Back » Bruce Springsteen - I Cant Help Falling in Love » Bruce Springsteen - I`M A COWARD (WHEN IT COMES TO LOVE) » Bruce Springsteen - Many Rivers to Cross » Bruce Springsteen - Two Hearts » Bruce Springsteen - Lost In The Flood » Bruce Springsteen - Santa Claus is Coming to Town » Bruce Springsteen - High Hopes » Bruce Springsteen - Janey Needs a Shooter » Bruce Springsteen - Lets Be Friends » Bruce Springsteen - Wild Billys Circus Story » Bruce Springsteen - Lift Me Up » Bruce Springsteen - ELOUISE (to the Tune of Growin` Up) » Bruce Springsteen - Cover Me » Евгений Бабенко - Ничего не случилось » Елена Решетняк - Морскому волку » Евгений Коблик - Осенние птицы » Елена Казанцева - Але, але » Егор летов - Русское поле экспериментов » Егор и опизденевшие - Про дурачка » Евгений Келлер - Локоть » Евгений Клячкин - Валаам » Евгения Козина - Желтый круг Луны запутался в тумане... » Евгений Исакевич - Лестница » Елена Фролова - Дорожкою простонародною... » Елена Фролова - Это – снова душа со своим лебединым... » Елена Фролова - Верлен » Елена Бушуева - Не хватит слов на каждый дождь и каждый ветер... » Евгений Клячкин - Песня о честной подруге » Евро - Радио DJ » Евгений Клячкин - Южная фантазия » Евгений Клячкин - По ночной Москве идет девчонка... » Елена Фролова - Небо жгучее... » Елена Фролова - Романс поэта |
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