Слова:
Beck Odelay

I dropped my anchor in the dead of night Unpacked my suitcase and threw it away I fell asleep in the funeral fire I gave my clothes to the police man

It takes a backwash man to sing a backwash soul Like a fryin' pan when the fire's gone Drivin' my pig while the bands takin' pictures in the grass And

Knock it baby Keep on truckin' like a Novacane hurricane Low static on the paranoid shortwave Short fuse, got to dismantle Code red, what's your handle

Something's wrong 'cause my mind is fading And everywhere I look there's a dead end waiting Temperature's dropping at the rotten oasis Stealing kisses

There's a destination, a little up the road From the habitations and the towns we know A place we saw the lights turn low The jig-saw jazz and the get

You've been so long Your blind eyes are gone Your old bones are on their own So take off your coat Put a song in your throat Let the dead beats pound

on up the hill but there's nothin' there left to kill Throwin' your two bit cares down the drain Yea Odelay, odelay, odelay, odelay, odelay Just passin' through Odelay, odelay, odelay, odelay

: She's got cigarette on each arm She's got the lily-white cavity crazes She's got a carburetor tied to the moon Pink eyes looking to the food of the

: I dropped my anchor in the dead of night I packed my suitcase and threw it away I fell asleep in the funeral fire I gave my clothes to the policeman