Текст (слова) песни: Fatima Mansions, The - The Holy Mugger
Here he comes, in the dead of the month His hair falling out, his shoulders hunched Secure with his Third World expectation [...] open sewers of degredation I hate his guts though we we have not spoken [...] feeling? You must be joking! The Lambourghini cleaner scowls Everybody hates the holy mugger Yeah, the holy mugger
I have to send this blacklist out and watch these rakes crawl past my house The silence here has driven me mad Jihad, jihad, what the fuck was that? The holy mugger The holy mugger The holy mugger
In a week, he`s dead, nobody talks but they never do--it was his own fault His body`s in the gutter, just the way he fell We glower at the sight and ignore the smell and it`s closing time at the Shiatsu Brothel and the rail track breaths a rickety rattle The burglars drive their hearses home The kids stay in and learn to speak in code
Who dunnit? I don`t know. I don`t know!
Here he comes, he never died He calls the street [...] and a whitewashed cap on a swimming peak Find his fortunes on his feet [...?] I am now a [...?] I`ll accept that this is normal [...?] it must be formal The holy mugger The holy mugger The holy mugger The libertine Nazi from hell!
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