West Ryder Silver Bullet

Then I went down into the basement Where my friend the maniac busies himself with his electronic graffiti Finally his language touches me Because he talks to the part of us Which insists on drawing profiles on prison walls. In that moment poetry will be made by everyone And there will be emu's in the zone Mist covers the ground In the city Engine rumbles quiet As we drift by I wish you could see it Through my crooked eye Oh your beauty Plays me just like a guitar string (it's so true) I want your touch Oh how I want you far too much She my baby He's my baby Ah, ah, ah, ah Ah, ah, ah, ah Days drift into one It's so pretty Traveling Wilbury's, Polly's photo fits And this stolen car Is loaded with junk It's so dirty He'll be the death of me But that's ok I want your touch Oh how I want you far too much She my baby He's my baby Ah, ah, ah, ah Ah, ah, ah, ah --- West Ryder Silver Bullet - Kasabian