Privacy
So how's this for a real confessional show?
Well I've got memories you will never know.
He was black, he was Italian
From Easter Island, he was Chinese
And he sculpted, traded & sang
Whatever he pleased
A genius ignoramus
Who ended up quite famous
Who still might be alive, you see
If he'd only had a little sense of privacy.
To survive gracefully
The grotesque hive tastefully
Requires the right
To privacy
A bull he was on Wall St
A puppy in my china closet
He broke drum heads with his backbeat
He made regular deposits
He was easy going, tortured
A pearl in a cherry orchard
He was tall short thin fat weird and ill at ease
He brought wheelers and dealers and hookers to their knees
To survive gracefully
The grotesque hive tastefully
Requires the right
To privacy
A Memoir? No way! That's nails on a chalkboard coffin
But Stew said: "you got something here you don't hear often"
Say, let's write a song in the key
Of intimacy, with respect to privacy
Stories?
Tell all
Memories?
Sell all
Go to hell!
All y'all
His punk rock band played CB's
He vomited through Europe
He got naked on the F train
And covered his arms in syrup
And we did everything and more
Two people could dream of
Let's separate form the crop
That we were the cream of
You can't afford the hide the glory
And essence of this story
So we wrote a song in the key
Of intimacy, with respect to privacy
Well I've got memories you will never know.
He was black, he was Italian
From Easter Island, he was Chinese
And he sculpted, traded & sang
Whatever he pleased
A genius ignoramus
Who ended up quite famous
Who still might be alive, you see
If he'd only had a little sense of privacy.
To survive gracefully
The grotesque hive tastefully
Requires the right
To privacy
A bull he was on Wall St
A puppy in my china closet
He broke drum heads with his backbeat
He made regular deposits
He was easy going, tortured
A pearl in a cherry orchard
He was tall short thin fat weird and ill at ease
He brought wheelers and dealers and hookers to their knees
To survive gracefully
The grotesque hive tastefully
Requires the right
To privacy
A Memoir? No way! That's nails on a chalkboard coffin
But Stew said: "you got something here you don't hear often"
Say, let's write a song in the key
Of intimacy, with respect to privacy
Stories?
Tell all
Memories?
Sell all
Go to hell!
All y'all
His punk rock band played CB's
He vomited through Europe
He got naked on the F train
And covered his arms in syrup
And we did everything and more
Two people could dream of
Let's separate form the crop
That we were the cream of
You can't afford the hide the glory
And essence of this story
So we wrote a song in the key
Of intimacy, with respect to privacy
Credits
Writer(s): Eszter Balint, Mark L. Stewart
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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