Текст (слова) песни: Manic Street Preachers - Small Black Flowers That Grow In The Sky
You have your very own number They dress your cage in it`s nature Once you roared now you just grunt lame Pace around pathetic pound games
Wanna get out won`t miss you sensaround To carry your own dead to swing your tyre tricks Wanna get out in here you`re bred dead quick For the outside, The small black flowers that grow in the sky
They drag sticks along your walls Harvest your ovaries dead mothers crawl Here comes warden, Christ, temple, elders Environment not yours you see through it all
WannPictures in a box at home Yellowing and green with mold So I can barely see your face Wonder how that color taste
You, were always so far away I know the way So don`t you run away like you used to do
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