The circus is full of smoke
After all these years
Some were good, some were bad,
Didn't know what I was about to start
When I started
Though I wrote it all down
God, I was so naive
When you're on the show,
You've got to shoot not to sing
Wasn't it worth, anyway
Twelve years
Six were good, six were bad
Twenty thousand songs in my head
And a toast to all the pimps in the world
Here's to you, hey hey, here's to you
Till the last bullet's fired
Welcome, sweet needles of success
Here's to you
You've got to shoot not to sing
Welcome, costumers, whores
I still got my gun
Look, I point at you
There's a shadow on the target
I guess you call it future
And the fingertip orchestras
Sounded like spirit rapping on the radio
The day they sold the music
For less than a soul
To a full-playback-pop-music-teenage-hero
Here's to you, sweet needles of success
Welcome, costumers, whores
I still got my gun
Till the last bullet's fired
I still got some shots inside
Welcome, sweet needles of success
Take me home, take me home,
Oh, sweet needles of success
Here I go
Into the dry ice fog
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