The Go-betweens. Too Much Of One Thing. Zeneszám
:
Nothing in my life is numbered
In my life nothing is planned
You might think you see purpose
When what you're seeing is a band
A thin line like from a spider
Upon which I dance
Nothing in these days is constant
Come home to chance
In the distance Is a bridge
And on the bridge a rail
I have known a hundred women
And part of me loves to fail
But then again I have broken
The expectations of a King
And through the mist and the armour
Too much of one thing
Some rise in the morning
Their milk upon the sill
The last time I saw sunrise
It had a dream to kill
Breath low my scented lover
Bottles and vials, potions and pills
I could carve you from memory
Then carry you through these hills
Behind my back is a curtain
In my eyes there is love
Two sides to this story
The great divide makes it tough
There are those that despise me
Lead me round on a ring
But I've always been a target
Too much of one thing
When I rise in the morning
It's as if I've walked a hundred miles
What I once did so easy
Now comes in a hundred styles
Hundred styles in a magazine
The same summer to spring
What I need is persistence
Too much of one thing
Nothing in my life is numbered
In my life nothing is planned
You might think you see purpose
When what you're seeing is a band
A thin line like from a spider
Upon which I dance
Nothing in these days is constant
Come home to chance
In the distance Is a bridge
And on the bridge a rail
I have known a hundred women
And part of me loves to fail
But then again I have broken
The expectations of a King
And through the mist and the armour
Too much of one thing
Some rise in the morning
Their milk upon the sill
The last time I saw sunrise
It had a dream to kill
Breath low my scented lover
Bottles and vials, potions and pills
I could carve you from memory
Then carry you through these hills
Behind my back is a curtain
In my eyes there is love
Two sides to this story
The great divide makes it tough
There are those that despise me
Lead me round on a ring
But I've always been a target
Too much of one thing
When I rise in the morning
It's as if I've walked a hundred miles
What I once did so easy
Now comes in a hundred styles
Hundred styles in a magazine
The same summer to spring
What I need is persistence
Too much of one thing
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