Brian Newman - Tropicalia

Oh, when they beat upon a broken guitar
And all the streets they reek of tropical charms
The embassies they lie in hideous shards
Where tourists snore and decay
And when they dance in a reptile blaze
You wear a mask, an equatorial haze
Into the past, a colonial maze
Where there's no more confetti to throw

And you wouldn't know what to say to your self
Love is a poverty you couldn't sell
Misery waits in vague hotels
To be evicted

You're out of luck
You're singing funeral songs to the studs
They're anabolic and bronze
They seem to strut in their millennial fogs
'Til they fall down and deflate

You wouldn't know what to say to your self
Love is a poverty you couldn't sell
Misery waits in vague hotels
To be evicted

Oh, and now you had your fun
Under an airconditioned sun
It's earning to your eyes
Leaves you plain and left behind
I see them rise and fall
Between the jaws of a pestilent one

You wouldn't know what to say to your self
And love is a poverty you couldn't sell
Misery waits in vague hotels
To be evicted

Written by:
Beck Hansen

Publisher:
Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

Lyrics powered by Lyric Find