Lyrics of 'Lazy Flies' by Beck
Do you want to know the lyrics of Lazy Flies by Beck? You're in the right place.
Lazy Flies is a song by Beck whose lyrics have countless searches, so we decided it deserves its place on this website, along with many other song lyrics that internet users want to know.
If you've been searching for the lyrics of the song Lazy Flies by Beck for a long time, start warming up your voice, because you won't be able to stop singing it.
Do you love the song Lazy Flies? Can't quite understand what it says? Need the lyrics of Lazy Flies by Beck? You are in the place that has the answers to your desires.
Lazy flies all hovering above
The magistrate, he puts on his gloves
And he looks to the clouds
All pink and disheveled
There must be some blueprints,
Some creed of the devil
Inscribed in our minds
A hideous game
Vanishes in thin air
The vanity of slaves
Who wants to be there?
To sweep the debris
To harness dead-horses
To ride in the sun
A life of confessions
Written in the dust
Out in the mangroves the mynah birds cry
In the shadows of sulphur the trawlers drift by
They're chewing dried meat house of disrepute
The dust of opiates and syphilis patients
On brochure vacations
Fear has a glare that traps you
Like searchlights
The puritans stare
Their souls are fluoresecent
The skin of a robot
Vibrates with pleasure
Matrons and gigolos
Carouse in the parlor
Their hand-grenade eyes
Invalid and blind
A hideous game
Vanishes in thin air
The vanity of slaves
Who wants to be there?
To sweep the debris
To harness dead-horses
To ride in the sun
A life of confessions
Written in the dust
La la la la la la la etc.
End on
Lazy flies all hovering above
The magistrate, he puts on his gloves
And he looks to the clouds
All pink and disheveled
There must be some blueprints,
Some creed of the devil
Inscribed in our minds
A hideous game
Vanishes in thin air
The vanity of slaves
Who wants to be there?
To sweep the debris
To harness dead-horses
To ride in the sun
A life of confessions
Written in the dust
Out in the mangroves the mynah birds cry
In the shadows of sulphur the trawlers drift by
They're chewing dried meat house of disrepute
The dust of opiates and syphilis patients
On brochure vacations
Fear has a glare that traps you
Like searchlights
The puritans stare
Their souls are fluoresecent
The skin of a robot
Vibrates with pleasure
Matrons and gigolos
Carouse in the parlor
Their hand-grenade eyes
Invalid and blind
A hideous game
Vanishes in thin air
The vanity of slaves
Who wants to be there?
To sweep the debris
To harness dead-horses
To ride in the sun
A life of confessions
Written in the dust
La la la la la la la etc.
End on
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