New York Times
Simone Felice
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Am C Em GAm C Hetti Blackbird, Hetti Blackbird,Em Hetti Blackbird,G that's the Indian's nameAm Out in South Dakota, he stole aC gold Range RoverEm and he drove it all over the emptyG plainsAm While Apache pilots haunt the RiverC TigressContinúa después del anuncioEm in the laughing silence of theG desert nightAm & the price of cocaine on aC favourite ball gameEm I read it all baby in the New YorkC Times. A pervert from Jersey with a thirty-thirty, found them girls rehearsing in a ballet school And when he bust in point his musket he turned lilly white muslin into bright red bloom As I read it here on the coffee street pier I can't help but hear them buildings fall And the way they came down, and way they jumped out, there's no baseball glove in town That's gonna catch them all. So every New Year we come to Times Square and we all howl there when the big ball drops. Don't trust your junk mail, don't touch the third rail, and baby don't' you dare hail the King of pop. Cos the day they found him and brought his body in the things that Doctor did was enough to strike you blind.