Minus Flophouse Nightmares Letras:
We booted and brained in fine wild bar place with
high flootin dandies all around. There is a surden
elctrical magic, surrounded by dishrag faces. I
hope the moon doesn´t come home drunk this
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evening, when the shadows are coming at about dusk
time. We are hungry to burn in the candle of
flame. Fall in the temple of quivers and slaps.
Share some laughs, tramps and take a hot
butterbath. In the end our faces are reflected in
a puddle and our faces don´t seem to mind and the
puddle doesn´t lie.
Letras: Flophouse Nightmares Minus [final]