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The Moon Upstairs

Mott The Hoople


(Ian Hunter/Mick Ralphs)

Well my brother he was a drinking man
And I asked him for release
He said this won't do you no good
And sent for the police

Well they busted me for nothing
Cos they said I was insane
So they let my body go
But they locked away my brain

Well I wandered freely as a bird that had broken both its wings
And I hated them and they hated me and I hated everthing
And I realise that to survive well my body is not mine
And I feel neglected feel rejected
Living in the wrong time

And to those of you who always laugh
Let this be your epitaph

And my head is down and I'm called a clown by comedians that grace
The living stage of every page of worthless meaningless space
But I swear to you before we're though you're gonna feel our every blow
We ain't bleeding you we're feeding you but you're too f*cking slow

And to those of you who always laugh
Let this be your epitaph


Compositores: Michael Geoffrey Ralphs (Ralphs Mick), Ian Hunter Patterson (Diane Patterson)
ECAD: Obra #18906902

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