Tekstovi: The Van Pelt. Magic Fantasy (we Are Provincal).
:
Complaining about it doesn't mean I want to leave without it. I broke my bed in my own sweat and nightmares. Anyone else just wouldn't fit right. Who do you think crafted this place anyhow? The Loyalist Torries? The floating diplomats? No, this town, this town is Allentown, Atlantic City, Newark, New Jersey. And this heart, this heart is ground into every curb, park bench, and mid-atlantic abandoned factory.
I'm not leaving this town even though I might not be quite with it, 'cause once you say it's over it's over no matter where you go to. You've quit, you've lost it, and I'm not sure you'll produce again, 'cause once you say it's over it's over. It's over no matter where you go to.
Countrymen, Asbury's spoken, and he was blunt and to the point, but maybe too there for you to get it. Or was it the president who took his words out of context and changed patriotism into jingoism, pulled the waving flag over my fathers eyes. That bastard split this country right downt he middle: those who's countries are on a map, and those who's countries are written down on paper. So which one's the patriot? Which one's the traitor?
Complaining about it doesn't mean I want to leave without it. I broke my bed in my own sweat and nightmares. Anyone else just wouldn't fit right. Who do you think crafted this place anyhow? The Loyalist Torries? The floating diplomats? No, this town, this town is Allentown, Atlantic City, Newark, New Jersey. And this heart, this heart is ground into every curb, park bench, and mid-atlantic abandoned factory.
I'm not leaving this town even though I might not be quite with it, 'cause once you say it's over it's over no matter where you go to. You've quit, you've lost it, and I'm not sure you'll produce again, 'cause once you say it's over it's over. It's over no matter where you go to.
Countrymen, Asbury's spoken, and he was blunt and to the point, but maybe too there for you to get it. Or was it the president who took his words out of context and changed patriotism into jingoism, pulled the waving flag over my fathers eyes. That bastard split this country right downt he middle: those who's countries are on a map, and those who's countries are written down on paper. So which one's the patriot? Which one's the traitor?
The Van Pelt
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