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• Artiste: Fatima Mansions (The)
• Titre: Angel's Delight
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A necklace of rubber, burning bright A burning rubber necklace for my angel's delight A holiday in a box, opportunity knocks for the rich man's militia photographing my block Kill a cop. Why the hell not? YEAH!! Burn, motherfucker, burn! I got a word for you: dead Got a trampoline--your fuckin' head You roll down my street in your gleaming new car I've got no secrets, cash or time left to give you but I've got something else for you, my friend A crack in the restless night, a broken bone on the pavement Angel's delight was a recurring statement Burn a bailiff--spill, don't save it YEAH!! Burn, motherfucker, burn! Run, run, run, run! You can have what you ask, but not in cash [with a?] credit card, a payment slashed You can put it where your mouth used to be You can put it where your dick used to be You can [...?] looking at me, looking at you [...?] blacklist, [...?] blacklist What do you do when words collapse and all that's left is broken glass? I know, I know I'm trapped I've got a holiday in a big oak box with my friend, the famous PC Plod, Plod, Plod* Kill a cop, kill a cop, you lay a hand on me, I'm gonna kill you, cop. Hey! Let's all kill some cops. Some bailiffs. Assholes.