Blonde chicks never our origine to have under their arms
Porche’s competition preferably-not-to-use-engines
But to watch the bonnet’s shine
From those windows life hurts less
Mamma’s all graduated in a Cow Milking Science
Once arrived under a new sky
They’d rather not speak about
Poor sons do fix things fathers couldn’t fix
Our boys our boys are doing just bad these days
Can someone help our boys
This sky is much more ours than they think
Much more ours than they can see
‘Daddy you got me’
So I’m not from our Capital
They can play with a gear-box and I can play with words
Our boys
And on streets I wonder if they’d talk about lives
As I say hi
‘If I educate myself well’
How about do I need a job in a heart factory
To make me a new one
What do you mean ‘if I educate myself well?’
Our boys
I’ll be just passing them by
‘Comedy is all right’ cos life hurts less
Introverto’s from our Side talk about plugs
Oh our boys
Our boys ain’t doing well these days
Can someone help our boys
This sky this sky
This sky is much more than a pink colloured licence
In a pocket of a Cappa shirt
This sky much more ours than they think
Much more ours than they can see
Don’t see them much around these days
‘Are they okay’
Yes it’s much easier not to admit little failures
Little tears as no one can see
Rolling down on the lists daddy’s made
Our boys
Yes much easier to talk about plugs
Yes
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Drazen Boskic.
Published on e-Stories.org on 04.07.2006.
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