Tekst:
The One Am Radio Flicker

found a moth sleeping in the folds of your dress. burnt out because he turned out such a mess. he'd caught sight of a light that called his name. caught

is still the wild one here, the incendiary soul She is in flame and I am cold, God I'm getting old She is talking through a yawn and the radio is on

and I'm eager, eager as a beaver On the radio and good to go, says your receiver Not to be the baddest or the oldest nor the wackest Neither am I needest

and white. Control The colour-coded charts are spread, but we're still gliding deep into the red, the radio is dead every valve blown open. The radar screen flicks

still the wild one here, the incendiary soul She is in flame and I am cold god I'm getting old She is talking through a yawn and the radio is on

be claimin broke but I be sayin they pro-cras-ti-natin Settlin for less, bet' be ready when they roll up in your nest and, sink one in your chest and

me that scenario doesn't apply my friend 'Cause I'm the same guy I've always been JJ FP one nine nine three M-O-V-I-E TV and CD Me and Jeff brand new on the radio

the transistor radio This little device fits the palm of her hand built to take anywhere she wants to go She searches for signal with a swift flick of

me that scenario doesn't apply my friend 'Cause I'm the same guy I've always been JJ FP one on one free M-O-V-I-E TV and CD Knew you left brand new on the radio