P.U.S.A
Drove around ‘til five o’clock, it was
drivers day
I drove the drivers way,
Now I must speed up get up wipe up
everything I’ve got
Wanna hit the pretty ice in my big
city, with my big clichés
And if I get out, give up, get along
with myself
I’ve gotta get it on the dancefloor,
baby where
in the Post United States of America
I’ve got my brotherhood to help me,
take ‘em there
In the Post United States of America
Police asked me where to go in a
nowhereland
I’m in a state of sand
And if I pray well, make hell, gee
swell, I’ll be OK
Brothers on my right and left they
don’t give a shit ‘bout my bottomless
pit
And I know, I will turn ‘em, all you
mothers in’n’out
I wanna get it on the dancefloor…
Love me, fool me, drink my wine in the
in the Post United States of America
I wanna go with those who live and
dies
in the Post United States of America |
