Fame Throwa

Fame thrower pass out the gold The diamond watch, the last reward All the things we hid before you sold us out and took it all Head-borne cries from zenith sluts Astral rites from dead-end ruts And these ends are sick-end wars These ends were sick and wars He′s one of our nation's spies He′s one of our first recruits I click with her leather thighs He's one of our first recruits How can you know? In the distance lies a grower Née rude-off, king fame thrower Son of groupie, bed-worn sexon Spent his cash convincing us that the desert was a star-scape Took our lives for a satellite so we could cry Naked, naked foul He's one of our nation′s spies He′s one of our first recruits I click with her leather thighs One of our first recruits