One more day to complain my servant. One more doubt here to find a servant.
One more day to complain my servant. One more doubt here to find a servant.
Yo soy un pistelero, I’m not shaking in my boots.
You got a head – a see-through head.
No you really haven’t lived life yet, if you ain’t got no regrets.
Oh my golly! Oh my golly!
Leaving New York, never easy – I saw the light fading out.
Now everybody, do the propaganda, and sing along to the age of paranoia.
Obviously, they came to portion up his fortune, sounds to me like that old robbery extortion.
Well I no longer hear the music when the lights go out, love goes cold in the shades of doubt.
Everybody report to the dance floor – it’s your chance for a little romance-or.
You’re always saying, it’s so easy.
Woke up in the morning, like ten A.M. Walked passed the Listerine, went straight for the gin.
Fast lane, high speed, on the grind, 24/7.
Dear New York, I hope you’re doing well. I know a lot’s happened and you’ve been through hell.
A pirate with a tune on a holiday. Ol’ lazy mister moon want a getaway. And isn’t that a moon for a milky way?
You make me feel just like I’m insane, yeah, and you’re trouble. You’re trouble.
And so I wondered and wandered around the planet, looking for some things that might have mattered to me.
There is no morphine, I’m only sleeping. There is no crime to dreams like this.
As the day grows dim, I hear you sing a golden hymn.
She don’t like The Toasters or The Skeletones, she’d rather pound some beers and listen to the Ramones.
Houston, we have a problem indeed. But not with this record.
If you’ve got an electro house urge, this album brings the satisfaction.
Adams spans singer songwriter-y pop to chilled out rock to alt country for quite a moody trip.