Not another smashed guitar
 

Everyone’s made a song about Fridays
They all played in toilets first
But fat and spoiled as we speak
Still doing their worn out Friday songs

And mirrors with strangers looking back at them
So much things they question like hopeless rags
Of human ponder victims they amuse me though
Cause I can sing along and feel one piece again

Not another smashed guitar
Not another trampled hotel room
Not another smashed guitar
Not another masquerade costume

You knew the drummer when he was shy
In the days made kinky fun and he’d tell stories
Of when he burst out of his skinny t-shirt
In the middle of a gig the girls went crazy

Not another smashed guitar
Not another trampled hotel room
Not another smashed guitar
Not another masquerade costume

And now they’re gray and old
It still hurts to see what they’ve become
Looking back for old times sake
At a broken Manson fell from rule of thumb

Heel leuk onderwerp.

Ik vind dit wel songtxt-material.. (y)

Sommige stukken zijn een btje te chaotisch, misschien moet je daar wat meer orde en ritme in brengen..

mijn geest is een en al chaos, guess it's my trademark:-)but thanx!

heb je deze geschreven als songtekst? het lijkt er anders wel op. best wel goed, zou een leuke song zijn denk ik.

jep:-)