Текст: Tori Amos. From The Choirgirl Hotel. Cruel.

(Cock-cock-cock.)
So don't give me respect don't give me a piece of your preciousness.
Flaunt all she's got in your old neighborhood,
I'm sure she'll make a few friends.
Even the rain bows down, let us pray as you cock-cock-cock your mane.
No cigarettes only peeled Havana's for you.
I can be cruel, I don't know why.
Why can't my bal-la-loon stay up in a perfectly windy sky?
I can be cruel, I don't know why, I don't know why.

Dance with the Sufis celebrate your top ten in the charts of pain. Nah...
Lover, brother, bogenvilla, my vine twists around your need.
Even the rain is sharp like today as you sh-sh-shock me sane.
No cigarettes only peeled Havana?s for you.
I can be cruel, I don't know why.
Why can't my bal-la-loon stay up in a perfectly windy sky?
I can be cruel, I don't know why, I don't know why.


Ah... ah ah... ah ah ah ah... ah ah...
Ah... ah ah... oh un oh ah... ah yes...
Ah... ah uh... mm ah ah ah... uh right...
Ah... ah oh... mm oh oh ah... ah- ah... ah.
Ah... ah oh... mm ah ah ah... ah ah... ah.
Ah... ah oh... uh un uh mm heh...


I can be cruel, but I don't know why.
Can't my bal-la-loon stay up in a perfectly windy sky?
I can be cruel, don't know why, don't know why... why... why...