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Fame throwa pass out the gold,
The diamon watch the last reward,
All the things we had before
You sold us out and took it all
Head-borne cries from zenith sluts
Astral rites from dead-end ruts
These ends are sickened wars [x2]
He’s one of our nation’s spies
He’s one of our first recruits
I click with her leather thighs
He’s one of our first recruits
How can you know?
In the distance lies a grower,
Née rudolph, king fame throwa,
Son of groupie, bed-worn sexan
Spent his cash convincing us
That the desert was a starscape
Took our lives for satellites so we could cry:
Naked, naked, foul.
He’s one of our nation’s spies
He’s one of our first recruits
I click with her leather thighs
He’s one of our first recruits
Read more lyrics about / on: fame
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