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• Artiste: Herman Brood
• Titre: Skid Row
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The swiftest fingers play for money The best are tangled up in minds The sweetest sisters come down to connin They buy no truth of any kind Senile mothers woo their spittin' sons Hunky husbands sell their pounds of flesh The most sung song is sixteens tons Only trash is good for cash Send me why'are greetings, sweet sweet love Commend me if I need to be heaven above Why'are socalled friends just drain why'are brain To be a star in conversation the clap trap rows on Lover's Lane are Only meant to keep you on probation Shoot why'are shit & shoot why'are stinkin' lip You find no way to score a solid hit try everything now to prove why'are hip You're gonna end up the final stupid flip Send me your greetings, sweet sweet love Commend me if I need to be heaven above but leave me, please leave me With the scum & the junkies On skid row, where all names are delusive Skid row, where all pain is exclusive Skid Row