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Crack City (Tin Machine)

Oh come all you children Don't grab that scabby hand It belongs to Mr. Sniff and Tell It belongs to the candyman Don't whore your little bodies The worms of paradise Like Everest it's fatal Its peaks are cold as ice They're riding on the subways They're riding on the streets They'll ride you down to the gutters They'll ride you off your feet Gonna hit Crack City Hit Crack City Piss on the icon monsters Whose guitars bequeath you pain They'll face you down to their level With their addictions and their fast lanes Corrupt with shaky visions And crack and coke and alcohol They're just a bunch of assholes With buttholes for their brains You can't keep on riding The pain you know so well They'll ride you down to the gutter They'll ride you down to hell And you the master dealer May death be on your brow May razors slash your mainline I'm calling you out right now May all your vilest nightmares Consume your shrunken head May the ho-ho-hoounds of paranoia Dance upon your stinking bed Don't look at me you fuckhead This nation's turning blue Its stink it fouls the highways Its filth it sticks like glue They'll bury you in velvet And place you underground The hatred of yourself And the sufferings that conspire To take your little body and throw it to the fools And the hounds that rip your flesh Only your mind can take you out of this Only your mind or death I'm riding on the subway The subway down to hell I've finished with this journey I seem to know it well