Interpret:

Joe Strummer

Album:

Earthquake Weather

Like to meet some of these idiots 
Who put up the signs 
Like to burn the fabric 
Outta their inner lines 
Sheet lightning going down through the pines 
With your shocks out of line 
You're out of your mind 


Crossing train tracks on switchbacks 
Through the lands of the living 
Pepe's gotta brand new bars for his liquor store 
The Fort Knox of oblivion 
When you're driving through the city 
Thank God for the sea 
Somebody's got to draw a line somewhere, 
And it might as well be Harry Belafonte 


And now ain't the time to hit the station 
Crowded with the ghosts of the Be Bop Nation 
'Tranes of thought and times of tones 
Sometimes a little wistful cigarette smoke blowing 
The President blew so that Bird could live 
And each along the wire could give 
The sun glass vision and the golden clef 
And the ghetto rod divine which notes are left 


Oh brothers I'm talking I'm talking 
He's got the solo on a wire 
This calls for a flock of angels 
To hover over the holy pyre 
The President blew so that bird could live 
And each along the wire could live 
The sun glass vision and the golden clef 
And the ghetto rod divines which notes are left. 


Golden rain it's the piss of Zeus 
Mixing with the dead yellow Swing insects juice 
Caught in the windshield headlights and sluice 
As you battle ahead on Truth 
Sheet lightning going down through the pines 
With your shocks out of line, you're out of your mind 


Whispering in the plywood motel 
Some crazy dish didn't turn out too well 
Some dreamy argument, some delicious smell 
Slow blizzards of petals coming at you in a storm 
That's the way you make me feel, like warm