William Patrick Corgan - Rider

Текст песни

Call me rider, call me anything
Call me what you like
There’s no good names for soul
'Cause you know me
Sycamore spit-twine
These knotted boughs must write
Of each injustice
Every solstice in white
We slung tobacci beyond our rising rot-mines
As trinkets get loosed us
Canaries will trill on sing-song
New paragons
There’s some place I’d once belonged
But straight from the heart I’ve wrought
Not one speck of proof
So dead punks traipse your streets
Not a ghoul has your heat
And straight from this heart I’ll beat
My wings over you
'Cause you know me
Rider, I’ve got soul
Call me rider, call me anyone
Spell me what you like
There’s no good cause I’m told
'Cause you know me
Happenstance twins brine
And dread, besotted, clementine
Oh, mighty father drippin' U.S. blue
Whence stiff religion rose up every roof
With hindsight
So laughs the lancer who forgot how to ride
Ponies freed as tresses flee
Nouveau salons writ, continental spree
But straight from this heart I wheeze
No guarantees
Just two twigs from a tree of life
Gives one pause to take a wife
Yet straight from this heart I’d lie
Just to tell you the truth
'Cause you know me
Rider, I’ve got soul
'Cause you know me
Rider, I’ve got soul