paroles de chanson Glycaemic Index Blues - Max Tundra
As
the
village
gives
me
up
for
dead
I
hide
in
a
neighbour's
bed
Then
under
the
door
glides
a
river
of
glossy
red
A
fruit
in
a
fractured
skin
A
slit
in
the
peel
and
the
juices
come
tumbling
through
The
boat
was
too
crowded
so
I
had
a
word
with
the
crew
I
can't
get
my
head
around
spread
betting
I'd
rather
use
the
Cher
setting
The
world's
financial
markets
hold
no
interest
for
me
That
man
from
the
string
quartet
Is
wearing
the
thing
that
he
won
in
a
drunken
bet
Your
friend's
trying
to
call
you
It
looks
like
he
might
be
upset
Intricate
patterns
of
light
dictate
the
tone
Downed
by
a
wink
from
a
sylph
I've
never
known
I'm
so
alone
The
cutting-room
men
from
the
studio
got
their
wish
The
clunk
of
a
cauldron
on
flagstone,
the
slippery
dish
My
seventy-eights
in
the
move
were
all
smashed
apart
The
legs
in
the
megaphone
pulse
to
the
beat
of
my
heart
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