ترانه:
Magazine Naked Eye

You urban vision of loveliness Moving scenes of skin You understand the ways and means Of city discipline A structured life in some girls' rooms Mirror

we, The Lords, do with a punk like you?} {Kiss my ass, motherfucker, burn 'em Just me and you, motherfucker, just me and you I put trademarks around your fuckin' eye

happiest person I know When she's in a desert When she's face to face with the sky She can cast all the shadow she needs With her naked eye

take - take and giving. Hands that feed. A man's gotta make a living. Charcoal barbeque. Station wagon. Nice dream. Selling cigarettes and men's magazines

in the eye of you Saw a man walking on the moon on a black and white TV I saw four lads from Liverpool in my baby sitter's magazine I saw rain shine

thing I learned in the years I worked on my daddy's farm was "Son, you better get them crops in when it turns cool" In the magazines, I saw the naked

view i need a few people around me think they are California bound we're turning blue and yellow we don't make a sound i've sunk into cold floors half naked

Lords, do with a punk like you? Kiss my ass, motherfucker! (Burn 'em) Just me and you, motherfucker, just me and you. I put trademarks around your fuckin' eye

Lords, do with a punk like you? Kiss my ass, motherfucker! (Burn 'em) Just me and you, motherfucker, just me and you. I put trademarks around your fuckin' eye