A perfect stylist, Winers aura is distinctively English. Winer doesnt transpose Russian rock ideas into Kings English, but sticks to melancholy, shoe-gazing pop
Not a very special kind of man
The balls in the bag keep rolling and rolling
No room for mercy
No room for fear or love
Sorry, mate, it's really appalling
Use a hammer, use a drill to pay the bills
Nail your colours to the must
They're putting on their caps
They're scheming the trap
They are not smart, but they are fast
And they eager to
Kill the killer
Evil is smart,
Evil knows the tricks
But good has got the bigger dick
Children adore him,
Children imitate him
But he's nothing but a friggin' freak
Mucho, mojo
Mucho, mojo
Who's one is bigger?
We can measure who's one is bigger
Kill the killer
Don't let the killer go
