Testi:
The National Bank

: What gives words the power to change their intended .. content? And who said our last silver dollar already has been spent? I roam alone through rooms

: A saxophone with flesh wounds is my true singing voice I've got a pizzicato love affair but the snare drum is my first choice Anyhow it's up to me

: There's a peg on the line It is hanging on to clothes There's a grape on the vine So here the story goes I'm a peg on that line And I am holding

: What was left of the rain? I could hear under my bicycle tires What was left of your love? I could feel like the steam from a fire What is left of

: I'd like to see the world run by kids And the National Bank is where their treasures are hid Like pieces of paper with invisible ink That collect the

G stacks baby bubble up fifty This dedicated to those who hustle it with me I came clean took it back to the basic From 'Frisco the fastest track in the nation

I wear more Jordans than Jordan did And I'm calling overseas when I'm back in Connecticut My cellphone bill looks like the national deficit Cause I know

Deep into the Valley of the Kings On the west bank of the Nile Lies the secrets of the souls beneath A somber Egypt sky Thieves robbed all the graves

'm in the streets With the tombstone blues Where Ma Raney and Beethoven once unwrapped their bed roll Tuba players now rehearse around the flagpole And the National Bank