Well, I'm a cement mixer
A churning urn of burning
funk
Yes, I'm a cement mixer for
you, baby
A churning urn of burning
funk
Well, I'm a demolition derby
(yeah)
A hefty hunk of steaming junk
Now, I'm a napalm bomb, baby
Just guaranteed to blow your
mind
Yeah, I'm a napalm bomb for
you, baby
Oh, guaranteed, just guaranteed
to blow your mind
And if I can't have your love
for my own (now)
Sweet child, won't be nothing
left behind
It seems how lately, baby
Got a bad case steamroller
blues
Marco Giunco |
Work | Basket | Music | Words |