Testi:
Siouxsie And The Banshees

Weaving in his basket chair 'twist you round a lock of hair made of straw -- the wicker man made of straw -- I'll blow your house down bishops falling

you with the cleaver he hung you up forever anticipating new skin Out of the frying pan and into the fire 58th variety Out of the frying pan and into

breath melted my words into strange alphabets tormenting my tongue pouting, shouting the heartbeats were echoing echoing the revolver emptying into my mouth i pulled a face from my pocket and

and sand Your former glories and all the stories Dragged and washed with eager hands But oh your city lies in dust, my friend Hot and burning in your

Watch the red line creeping upwards Watch the sanity line weaken The volcanic depths of Hades' ocean Bubble under, these crazed eruptions It wriggles and wrythes and

i've been here a while tapping out rhythms against the mattress and wall the heat melts the sheets another layer is peeled tapping out rhythms... just my cot, the wallpaper and

you done to her I heard a rumour-what have you done to her Veiled behind screens kept as your baby machine Whilst you conquer more orifices Of boys, goats and

floors and crash into freefall but then fear takes control -- fear of the unknown Imagine two complete strangers who suspect they were meant to be both in need of love and

I am stone and I am blade A sharp eternal instant A darker heart a distant moan Pleasures' deep and spectral instinct Look me in the eye Speak it to