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Le Défilé Des Princes

de L'Orchestre National du Bolchoï

Oh my Mother, let your daughter dance with me
I'd like to spin her wild around the cottonwood tree
There's something about her eyes, I think her roots are rotten
This must be the reason she wears her hair up in knots, oh no

This is so embarrassing
Ah, we're pissing fits
Crying on our doorsteps in t-shirts loose and ripped
Some of them so out of style I cannot save them
They'll just get whatever my salvation gave them

Keep the weed next to the bed
Light the water, check for lead
Dim the lights a little lower
Hide your backbone, shrug your shoulders
Give the gift that fits your head
You have to get this turtleneck

The poor, they leave their cellphones in the bathrooms of the rich
And when they try to turn them off everything they switch to
Is just another man, in shitty suits, everybody's cheering for
This must be the genius we've been waiting years for, oh no

This is so embarrassing
Ah, we're pissing fits
Crying on our doorsteps in t-shirts loose and ripped
Some of them so out of style I cannot save them
They'll just get whatever my salvation gave them

Keep the weed next to the bed
Light the water, check for lead
Dim the lights a little lower
Hide your backbone, shrug your shoulders
Give the gift that fits your head
You have to get this turtleneck

Keep the weed next to the bed
Light the water, check for lead
Dim the lights a little lower
Hide your backbone, shrug your shoulders
Give the gift that fits your head
You have to get this turtleneck

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