Paroles de N.Y.C.D.

I can’t say that I'm sorry I can’t help where I'm born Does it feel like Armageddon Or the rain before the storm Whisper me a warning Or yell me your last chance The [?] may be burning But New York cannot dance Walk through the doors of the Chelsea Hotel The man will lead the way if you ring the bell The yellow wood start smoking But he just can't, no he just can't Well?? Maybe burning New York cannot dance The suits are straight from London The suits are from Rome The drinks are on me If you go home Where the heroin... Is pure Afghanistan And the money, is red white and blue That's you, that's American That's American!