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Nostalgic Pushead - Manic Street Preachers

Nostalgic Pushead 文本歌词

One, two, three, four
Five, six, seven, eight
I am the raping sunglass gaze
Of sweating man and escort agencies60's
Alienation the anthem of care
Now a knife constantly slashing eyelids
Slavery to the beat
Slavery to the chord
Slavery to the pleasure
Slavery to the
GodSlavery to the beat
Slavery to the chord
Slavery to the pleasure
Slavery to the
GodThey dig the new scene and their parties
Where Stonehenge is worshiped and drugs a deity
Vicarious thrills rerun their youth
We follow, we have no voice, the dead
Radio nostalgia is radio death
I wanna cover diamonds on my wife
Hard rock nostalgia the
Stones on
CDTranquilized icons for the sweet paralyzed
Slavery to the beat
Slavery to the chord
Slavery to the pleasure
Slavery to the
GodSlavery to the beat
Slavery to the chord
Slavery to the pleasure
Slavery to the
GodSo cool, the new sound of the decade
Thinks it's so fresh not a post
Elvis still
All taste is nothing old pictures blow dried
Rebellion, it always sells at a profit
I am a face of fashion in
Soho Square
My tie is
Paul Smith or
GaultierMy cheeks blood red as my favorite port
But, hey, ******* keeps cholesterol at bay
Slavery to the beat
Slavery to the chord
Slavery to the pleasure
Slavery to the
GodSlavery to the beat
Slavery to the chord
Slavery to the pleasure
Slavery to the
God, some
God

Nostalgic Pushead LRC歌词

One, two, three, four
Five, six, seven, eight
I am the raping sunglass gaze
Of sweating man and escort agencies60's
Alienation the anthem of care
Now a knife constantly slashing eyelids
Slavery to the beat
Slavery to the chord
Slavery to the pleasure
Slavery to the
GodSlavery to the beat
Slavery to the chord
Slavery to the pleasure
Slavery to the
GodThey dig the new scene and their parties
Where Stonehenge is worshiped and drugs a deity
Vicarious thrills rerun their youth
We follow, we have no voice, the dead
Radio nostalgia is radio death
I wanna cover diamonds on my wife
Hard rock nostalgia the
Stones on
CDTranquilized icons for the sweet paralyzed
Slavery to the beat
Slavery to the chord
Slavery to the pleasure
Slavery to the
GodSlavery to the beat
Slavery to the chord
Slavery to the pleasure
Slavery to the
GodSo cool, the new sound of the decade
Thinks it's so fresh not a post
Elvis still
All taste is nothing old pictures blow dried
Rebellion, it always sells at a profit
I am a face of fashion in
Soho Square
My tie is
Paul Smith or
GaultierMy cheeks blood red as my favorite port
But, hey, ******* keeps cholesterol at bay
Slavery to the beat
Slavery to the chord
Slavery to the pleasure
Slavery to the
GodSlavery to the beat
Slavery to the chord
Slavery to the pleasure
Slavery to the
God, some
God

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