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Manic Street Preachers Everything Must Go Small Black Flowers That Grow In The Sky You have your very own number They dress your cage in its nature Once you roared now you just grunt lame Pace around pathetic pound games Wanna get out won't miss you sensaround To carry your own dead to swing your tyre tricks Wanna get out here you're bred dead quick For the outside, The small black flowers that grow in the sky They drag sticks along your walls Harvest your ovaries dead mothers crawl Here comes warden, Christ, temple, elder Environment not yours you see through it all Wanna get out won't miss you sensaround To carry your own dead to swing your tyre tricks Wanna get out here you're bred dead quick For the outside, The small black flowers that grow in the sky Here chewing your tail is joy |
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