Tekst:
King Crimson Drop In

Why don't you just drop in And love the life of sin And squirm inside your cage You are a prisoner of your rage Why don't you just drop in And play the

around on the Eastside I'm the s-h-i-t Bun B Bun B, I'm underground king In the candy-painted car on swang With the top on drop and the trunk on pop

Frenchman he would never pay The price that's more is only for Americans from the U.S.A. A Montmartre lady drops her hanky And slyly winks her eye That

for the police, my flow heat leave no evidence no sediment I burn books, theres no testament to the savage thing, that the battle king does when I stab

: (music by King Crimson, words by Adrian Belew) one eye goes laughing, one eye goes crying through the trials and trying of one life one hand is tied

(Yea!) The clock's tickin, I just count the hours (Yea!) Stop trippin, I'm tripin off the power ("No one man should have all that power!" - [King Crimson

(music by King Crimson, words by Adrian Belew) one eye goes laughing, one eye goes crying through the trials and trying of one life one hand is tied

Pythagoras and Socrates One spear, force exerted from the ?Dawntien? An archer practicing the art of Zen Leaving marks on men even in the season when darkness blends From black, purple, to crimson

(Yea!) The clock's tickin, I just count the hours (Yea!) Stop trippin, I'm tripin off the power ("No one man should have all that power!" - [King Crimson