Cold turkey has got me on the run Temperature's rising Fever is high Can't see no future Can't see no sky My feet are so heavy So is my head I wish I was a baby I wish I was dead

She's not me She's not me and she'll never be, never be, never be Eh, or is it none of my business? None of my business (oh, ah, oh, ah, eh) Is it none of my business? (oh, ah, oh, ah, eh) She doesn't love you like I do She doesn't have my name However

To get your head lumped in You keep flappin' those gums You don't know what it's like Like you the boss But just when I'm wrong 'Cause you don't want none U N to the D E A D You should check your chin Oh no you don't know what it's like

The dream is over God is a concept By which we measure I'll say it again I don't believe in magic I don't believe in I-Ching I don't believe in Bible I don't believe in tarot

Y a pas moyen Djadja J'suis pas ta catin Djadja, genre en Catchana baby tu dead ça Putain mais tu déconnes C'est pas comme ça qu'on fait les choses Oh Djadja, j'suis pas ta catin Djadja, non Aya Nakamura oh yeah Hello papi mais qué pasa? J'entends des

Y a pas moyen Djadja J'suis pas ta catin Djadja, genre en Catchana baby tu dead ça Putain mais tu déconnes C'est pas comme ça qu'on fait les choses Oh Djadja, j'suis pas ta catin Djadja, non Aya Nakamura oh yeah Hello papi mais qué pasa? J'entends des

Oh no, oh no You know life can be long Sometimes I feel I've had enough How can I go forward when I don't know which way I'm facing How can I go forward when I don't know which way to turn How can I go forward into something I'm not sure of How can I

Three thousand miles over the ocean From Liverpool to Tokyo What a way to go From distant lands one woman one man Let the four winds blow Three thousand light years from the land of the rising sun Love has opened up my eyes Love has blown right through

Spent most of my youth Out hobo cruising And all I got for proof Is rocks in my pockets and dirt in my shoes So long babe, I got the flashback blues So goodbye nonbeliever Don't you know that I hate to leave here While window shopping through the past I

Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta, They gave him ten for two Gotta, gotta, gotta set him free In the stir for breathing air What else can the judges do? It ain't fair, John Sinclair Won't you care for John Sinclair? Let him be, set him free Let him be like you