Rats of New York City - Summer Underground

Rats of New York City - Summer Underground

Альбом
Honeycomb
Год
2014
Язык
`angielski`
Длительность
347000

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Rats of New York City

Summer Underground

You were raised inside the Roosevelt Hotel

Your parents knew to treat you and they treated you well

You never had to apply yourself to anything at all

But girl you make it work, you wear it well

A combination of fabrics held together by the spell

That everybody falls into

When you walk into the room

Everybody drops their glass and swoons

Here come the Rats of New York City!

Well your daddy was a banker and your momma was a painter

But you never shared those sorts of goals, nah

You worked the other 9 to 5: good posture drunk out in the cold

When it’s time to die remember this

When your paradise has faded and your bones are wearing thin

Remember the garden walls

And the volumes of rare novels

Not to mention all the alcohol

It’s a fucking miracle we ever even lived

Here come the Rats of New York City!

Now, everybody break it down and clap:

Oh when the rats come rushing in

How I’ll hope to be in the Lord’s favor

When the rats come rushing in

When the towers start to fall

How I’ll hope to be in a basement

When the towers start to fall

And when the sirens start to wail

We’ll cut in line with the sinners

When the sirens start to wail

When the earth gets swallowed up

How I’ll hope to God I’ll be riding towards the sky

With Rats of New York riding up behind

And when we rev our engines and reach the other side

We’ll release, we’ll release, we’ll release

And then we’ll close the turnpike — transfiguration day

Open the car doors — let the radio play

We’ll be dancing softly in the light of day

Til the ferry comes and takes you away

To an asylum in the river where you’ll waste away

Now your final procession starts at Avenue A

We march your ashes through the borough towards the West Side Highway

You were the savior, the invader, you had the right of way

Your soul gets swallowed by the Hudson

It’s the river you hate

The preacher signals to the choir

And the boardwalk starts to shake

Now everybody bow your heads and pray: «Thank God for Rats»

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