Allen - Cox Prostitutes... the spice of life Prostitutes are the spice of life, the spice of life Look back on the course Love away What you need
Time, it's all a question of time It's all a question of time It's all a question of time Smaller face to synthesize It's only faith from crime to cranks
Who shot him in the back, peacetime Who took him by surprise, tippy toes You can't bury that door 3 times, hide my eyes 4 times I'm gonna sink my teeth
Disturbing the old times, the gift of science Lots of back washing and sticks of paper Sticks of paper lighting the way If you find you don't know where
Thank you for the big sunrise And all the shapes that luminate Hardly get to sleep at night I'm waiting for the rays Thank you for the lesson There's
(Cox) Engineered: Simon Van Zwananberg.
Thinking surface looking under You want something look no further Thinking hard but working in a small time She was born in mid-town Provincia And down
Come on in and see my A's Come on in and see my I's Come on in and see my ways Come on in and see my wife My wife She's got a middle just like her mother
Allen - Cox Michael Allen: Bass, Organ, Piano, Percussion, Bowed Bass Mark Cox: Synthesizer, Scratching, Percussion, Winding Whistle, Voice Richard
I'm out of the forest, I'm out of the wilds I'm out of the forest and into the light I'm out of extinction and into the scene I'm out of extinction and
I'm not singing about April showers I'm not singing about the rain They're going to stick my name in the papers I send them all away I want to sing about
[Breath breath] I'm not going to take it lying down I'm not going to face my head in the ground anymore I said see me in the fall See see see see
He said to me, "Come body sing" I say to you, "My body's singing" Whose body sings? My body's singing Whose body sings? My body's singing I've seen it
I'm showing my hands and I'm showing my arms Keepin' it all down here, so don't look 'round Yes, it matters, yes there's truth Showin' me failures, I
Allen - Cox - Gray This anger I feel inside is a thing of meaning I can't reach any lower, I have suffered far too many Nearly ending up in the waste
Tame my heart, take my fears away Tame my heart, I'll turn to pulp someday Saint in my home, shame on my shame of pace Hole in my bag, complacency Hole
allen / anxiety / cox / gray Keyboards: Michael Allen Voice: Annie Anxiety Drums: Michael Allen, Rew Engineered: John Madden Produced: Drostan Madden
May I bring you up to date? We are living in the 20'th century not in the 18'th May I bring you up to date, sir? We are not alive at all This isn't Napoleon