Who are ya?Who are ya?With your hand on the neck of your father's guitarYou wanna move toward the lightYou wanna stay in the darkWho are ya?Who are ya?With your hand on your prick and your eyes on the starsAnd you wonder if the satellites are sending you some invitationYou wanna move toward the lightYou wanna stay in the darkAnd like arpeggio whore, like an arpeggiated holeLike an arpeggioI cannot stay, I cannot goI call the elevator down, call the elevator And we go downtownAnd then are rains on you, and then it poursAnd then the angel of the future is locking all her doorsAnd then you're shocked at how you have to come to some crocodile form of the truthLike a voice coming up through the floorSo may I hang my hat in this hallway, dearI've made it almost halfway, dearMay I hang from the branches of the past to put that crocodile and his crocodile tearsWho are ya?Who are ya?With your hand on the neck of your father's guitarYou wanna move toward the lightYou wanna stay in the darkWho are ya?Who are ya?With your hand on the neck of your fathers before yaIgnoring the fact that they made you all that you areYou wanna move toward the lightYou wanna stay in the darkYou wanna move toward the lightYou wanna stay in the darkYou wanna move toward the lightYou wanna stay in the darkYou wanna move toward the lightYou wanna stay in the darkYou wanna move toward the lightWhy do you cry, arpeggio?Why be, arpeggio?Cry the arpeggioBecause you cry arpeggio, oh, oh
