She came, as in the book, Mickey Spillane That Saturday night dark masquerade Had filled his friend with lead, the same, sweetheart But then, as nothing happens quite the same Investigation is the game He had to check her story right away-he dead Sam Space his buddy Archer first to go he got it She spelt it out, how could they know the 'Fatman' got it -he dead Her sister didn't really live at all-confusion-he dead His chase led to the Fatman, to face the friends of Mr. Cairo That night, the double crosser got it right Pretending he was really dim He slipped to Sam a double gin (Mickey Finn) He woke, the boys had gone, but not his gun They'd left a note to lead him on The chase to find the Maltese Falcon-you bet- Early thirties gangster movies Set to spellbind population From Chicago to Hong Kong Via Istanbul the Talking Tong Dirty rats thru' prohibition Money flowed thru gangsterism Acting out his fantasy In Hollywoods vicinity The best part for the best rendition Al Capone he sent to prison Citizen Kane came fast and quickly Conquerin ol' New York City Poking fun at superstition Media became television Give me Cagney anyday Or Jimmy Stewart for President Or Edward 'G' and all those guys Who always shoot between the eyes Between the eyes
Between the eyes Father love do you work, do you work for Mother Chances could call, and accept that, be no other Science as it might, disappear correspond with colour Chance is the fruit, will outlive, what is now the brother Call for total wealth to distribute like a picture In black and white, give it joy, give it, let it hit you Spoil our existence by extreme gift to population Father love do you work, do you work for Mother Tell me straight be the Godfather be no other Media Kings give us now give us total movie Now being here, being now, being here believing One on one to talk to you Like film stars they get close to you
chargement...
mais ça me rends
+ 
