Tin Pan Alley - Kumka Olik

This huge construction project could change the character of areas on this road forever. That's the worry at least, to people once known as 'tin pan alley' You found a carousel to ride around But you get bored, so you tear it down Like a kid in a playground, putting sand in their mouth Spit it out, when you're feeling fickle And I want to say it shouldn't work that way People's lives ain't a game, just 'coz you can pay Smoking your big fat cigar Tweed hat, cravat and four birds on your arm I'm just a tin pan boy, do you want to take that toy? Hey! You! Mr. Developer! Hey! You! Mr. Developer! You're just a tin town toy, a big fat boy Hey! You! Mr. Inheritor! Crook! Hook! Mr. Proprietor (Booyyy) You kick the small kid off the monkey bars Take your mess out of his specs and the size of his arm Force him to dress in black, then make him hold your holster Whilst you shoot in the back (back) You will say I'm only writing songs Son get off of your are and get a proper job And snigger at my beat-up boots But I tell you Sir, I'm coming after you in fiction I'm just a tin pan boy, please don't take my toys Hey! You! Mr. Developer! Hey! You! Mr. Developer! You're just a tin town toy, a big fat boy Hey! You! Mr. Inheritor! Mr. Proprietor! (Boyyy) I'm just a tin pan boy, you want to take my toys Hey! Hey! You're just a tin town toy, a big fat boy Hey! Hey! Boyyy!

I come from Tin Pan Valley and I'm moving right along I live on former glory, so long ago and gone I'm turning down the talk shows, the humour and the couch I'm moving up to higher ground, I've found a new way out. There's parasols and barbeques and loungers by the pool The late night conversations filled with 20th century cool My peers may flirt with cabaret, some fake the rebel yell Me - I'm moving up to higher ground, I must escape this hell. Let me suspend my thirst for knowledge in your powder, sweat and sighs A grudge of Christian women, a stain of spotless wives A perfect destination inside a perfect world I take the bottle to the baby, you take the hammer to the pearl Like this, oh, like this, oh, like this, oh, like this Every day's like Sunday, down here on memory lane Salad days and no good ways drive me quite insane A cocktail clouded troubadour attempts to speak in tongues He's said enough, I'm through the door I'm moving right along Like this Oh, like this, oh, like this, oh, Like this, oh, like this, like this, ooh

To co śpiewam to maszynowy kod Ja koduję, wysyłam na planety Ludzki sygnał z nadzieją, że doleci. Ja koduję x2 Oczekuję na radykalny zwrot Akceptuje cokolwiek i ktokolwiek skąd Ja koduję, tu moje pytane Czy możliwe jest gorzej niż fatalnie? Ja koduję x10

Wiem, nic dziś się już nie wydarza, na dziś przestałem już marzyć Bo wieczór nie ma nic dla mnie, a jutro nie ma nic dla nas Niech nikt mnie nie uspokaja Chcę słyszeć wyłącznie hałas Niech nikt mnie nie uspokaja. Hałas. Hałas... pulsuje w rytmie Joy Division... Hałas... pulsuje w rytmie... w rytmie... Tej piosenki nie śpiewa się z rana, Bo ona nic nie wnosi, Bo ona nie uspokaja. Bałagan mam w głowie, wczoraj nie dla nas I dzisiaj jutro nie dla mnie Ten rytm mnie nie uspokaja... uspokaja... Bałagan... pulsuje w rytmie Joy Division... Bałagan... pulsuje w rytmie... w rytmie... Hałas... pulsuje w rytmie Joy Division Hałas pulsuje w rytmie... w rytmie. Hałas... pulsuje w rytmie Joy Division Hałas pulsuje w rytmie...