album cover
Hurricane Dance
690
Pop
Трек «Hurricane Dance» вышел в 1 января 1995 г. г. на альбоме «{albumName}» (лейбл «Capitol Records»)Fast Stories...From Kid Coma
album cover
Дата релиза1 января 1995 г.
ЛейблCapitol Records
ЯзыкEnglish
Мелодичность
Акустичность
Валанс
Танцевальность
Энергия
BPM85

Создатели

ИСПОЛНИТЕЛИ
Truly
Truly
Исполнитель
Robert Roth
Robert Roth
Гитара, Гармонический вокал, Фортепиано, Вибрафон
Hiro Yamamoto
Hiro Yamamoto
Бас
Mark Pickerel
Mark Pickerel
Барабаны, Бэк-вокал
МУЗЫКА И СЛОВА
Robert Roth
Robert Roth
Композитор
ПРОДЮСЕРЫ И ЗВУКОРЕЖИССЕРЫ
Truly
Truly
Продюсер
John Agnello
John Agnello
Продюсер
Robert Roth
Robert Roth
Продюсер
Adam Kaspar
Adam Kaspar
Инженер

Слова

Black drone wasps swarm around your porch at night.
You're inside bathing in the television light.
They want you to come outside.
They want to bite. They want you to fight.
The drones have needs, not just to feed the Queen.
They wanna fly in formation cut loose and
fuck around the airstream. Except for jill-ing your jane,
everything around you smacks of a media stain.
In a world revisited… world revisited let the night time drag you around.
Let the night time hook you up… the night time drag you around.
Rolling in your eyes, black pools and infinite skies.
The snakes are seething underneath with jealous poison suspicion.
I become entranced… it's not my fault.
It's rushing through my body and it's gushing out my throat.
Do you wanna play? or get blown away?
Do you wanna fuck around with the elements of chance?
Do you wanna spin around in a hurricane dance?
Cable lines that shoot sparks across my wall when the bus goes by.
I'm inside, it's five a.m. and I'm the electric wire.
I remember thinking "in a world revisited… in a world revisited"
Johnny take a pill you're gonna get us killed
Johnny take a pill you're gonna get us killed.
I become entranced… It's not my fault.
It's still rushing through my body even with your hands around my throat
Think I've gone astray? That I'd fade away?
Shallow shit your mother's son, your daddy holds your hand.
You wanna spin around in a hurricane dance.
Elevate me to your plane… Elevate me to your plane…
Army men and poison darts in their hearts and hands.
Makes me wanna spin around in a hurricane dance.
Elevate me to your plane… Elevate me to your plane…
Written by: Robert Roth
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