Texty: Peter Murphy. No Home Without Its Sire.

No yester dreams, no gray desire
No body's sap and tire
No sorrows born of lust's disguise
No home without it's sire

Break out the tomb, the self-made womb
No faded flick, no gray desire
No body's sap and tire

And if you ask me, you know I'll give
And if you run from me
Well, I'll be waiting in the driver's car

And if you ask me, you know I'll give
And if you run from me
Well, I'll be waiting in the driver's car

No yester dreams, no faded flick
No body's sap and tire
No sorrows born of lust's disguise
No home without it's sire

Break out the tomb, the self-made womb
No faded flick, no gray desire
No home without it's sire

And if you ask me, you know I'll give
And if you run from me
Well, I'll be waiting in the driver's car

And if you ask me, you know I'll give
And if you run from me
Well, I'll be waiting in the driver's car

And if you ask me, you know I'll give
And if you run from me
Well, I'll be waiting in the driver's car

And if you run from me
Well, I'll be waiting in the driver's car