Sonntag, 24. April 2011
Coming out of redwoods, on her way to L.A., she was looking for fun and she wanted to stay
and the bullet that blew her head
up and away
came from "american" steel, made in Pittsburg P.A.
So she was.

And there was a my my my and a hey hey hey in these last days of april, could be the first night in may.

She (only) was searching
may be for a good place to go
while the radio DJ said
the next song will be the best of this show
and a man in the middle
did, what such a man has got to do –
He was a white submission redneck (bondage-freak)
with his very own point of view.
And so.
She was
She was born in the USA.

As she entered the bar, in new pants from San Fran,
she was cool and was ready to see, and she was welcome with a dissin´ like piss off fuckin´ apachi.

And as she turned around
cause a girl has to stay on the scene
she found herself
face to face to that
modern killer machine.

And as the things felt into places
she had to pay for what she´d got:
some peanuts in her pocket and
getting down in a red bed of (her own) blood.

She was proud of being an indian
and proud of talking slow
and she was proud at all,
cause a century ago
her granny was in love
with a great brave man, called

And what happened to her
now she never will know – oh yeah, she never will mind that punk, cause there is no word for US-nation in an apachi mothertongue. There ain´t no word for US-nation in an apachi mothertongue. Killed by a master´s way may be in the last days of april, may be the first night in may.

My my, hey hey, rock´n roll...

And no female attraction not even her college degrees could have saved the girl from that fucking desease.
Killed by the.... here to stay... my my, hey, hey, rock´n roll is

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