Fame Throwa

Fame throwa pass out the gold The diamond watch, the last reward All the things we had before you sold us out and took it all Head-borne cries from zenith sluts Astral rites from dead-end ruts These kids are sick-end wars Chorus One of the nation's spies One of our first recruits Click with her leather thighs One of our first recruits. Verse 2 How can you know In the distance lies a grower Nee rode off, king fame throwa Son of groupie, red-worn sexan: Spent his cash convincing us that the desert was a starscape And sold our lives for a satellite so we could cry Naked, naked foul Chorus