Your Songs Have No Form – Lyric Video

Lemmy said Bruce and Brucey said Lemmy said
Hit you on the head with a rubber band in the doorway
With a rubber band in the doorway…
Pull the rubber band in the doorway
Stretch across his nose
When he knows there’s no other way to go
His nose will hit the road
And then Lemmy will hit the ground
And you hear the Zen crazy sound
Everybody talking about the same way to
Go go go go go go go go go
Ga ga ga ga go ga ga ga ga ga ga go!

Your songs. Your songs. Have no form. No form.
Your songs. Your songs have no form.
No form. No form. No form.

Traffic tree hologram made you wanna spit at Sam
You could wear a happy cam
If you bought a borderline freeway
If you bought a weather wall lined freeway…
Check the bottlenose where the traffic goes, traffic flows
Sam is on her head and you will be
Tripping on the dog, my God
My dog washed down the drain in the movie star trailer
And you hear the zen crazy sound of the movie star cars
And the way they go go go go go go go go go
Ga ga ga ga go ga ga ga ga ga ga go!

Your songs. Your songs.
Have no form. No form.
Your songs. Your songs have no form. No form. No form.

You’re running all around
And you stumble through the day
And you’re always in the way
Of the other people’s games
You’re coming to my house
And you’re knocking on the door

And you’re knocking down my house
And you’re banging down my floor
You’re takin all my cash and you’re laying on my grass
And you’re telling me to do all the junk you don’t want to

I‘m living fine being me, all my songs are all form free,
I’m the kinda guy who knows how to say what I see.
I do what I want and chat with the cats that I like,
that’s right I don’t fight when I know I gotta sing into the mic.

Whining baby dining drinking wine
baby’s drinking wine and dining on a dime
Drinking all the vintage red wine hairdye
Dining on a morning hurricane red sky…
Hurricane water bottle hanging from the window ledge
Baby took her bottle and she smashed it in the hurricane airspace
And the desert sand blowing in the outlaw gunfight
ripped apart a vintage red suitcase
And you hear the zen crazy sound, of the gunshots fly
And the way they go go go go go go go go go
Ga ga ga ga go ga ga ga ga ga ga go!

Your songs. Your songs. Have no form. No form. Your songs.
Your songs have no form. No form.
Your songs. Your songs. Have no form. No form. Your songs.