Texty: Magazine. Motorcade.

I believe all that I read now
Night has come off the corners
Shadows flicker, sweet and tame
Dancing like crazy mourners

A man with the hot dogs sells lemonade
Someone over there needs first aid
While me and the rest of the world
Await the touch of the motorcade

No one finds time to turn a blind eye
You can't be too careful nowadays
And my friend says
"Listen to the stupid things they're making you say"

Here comes the motorcade, moving so slow and hard
Like a snake in a closet, holding sway in the boulevard
Here is your man, all faces turn unanimously
The small fry who sizzle in his veins, in all security

Here is your man, all faces turn unanimously
The small fry who sizzle in his veins, in all security

In the back of his car
Into the null and void he shoots
The man at the center of the motorcade
Has learned to tie his boots

In the back of his car
In the null and void he sees
The man at the center of the motorcade
Can choose between coffee and tea

In the boulevard, the motorcade hold sway
In the boulevard, the motorcade hold sway
In the boulevard, the motorcade hold sway
In the boulevard, the motorcade hold sway