All Lyrics Of George Harrison
All Those Years Ago lyrics
Apple Scruffs lyrics
Art Of Dying lyrics
Baby Don't Run Away lyrics
Ballad Of Sir Frankie Crisp (let It Roll) lyrics
Bangla Desh lyrics
Be Here Now lyrics
Blood From A Clone lyrics
Blow Away lyrics
Cheer Down lyrics
Circles lyrics
Cloud 9 lyrics
Cockamamie Business lyrics
Crackerbox Palace lyrics
Ding Dong lyrics
Don't Let Me Wait So Long lyrics
Dream Away lyrics
Gone Troppo lyrics
Got My Mind Set On You lyrics
Hear Me Lord lyrics
Here Comes The Moon lyrics
I Dig Love lyrics
I Really Love You lyrics
I'll Have You Anytime lyrics
If Not For You lyrics
Isn't It A Pity(version Two) lyrics
It's Johnny's Birthday lyrics
Let It Down lyrics
Life Itself lyrics
Love Comes To Everyone lyrics
My Sweet Lord lyrics
Mystical One lyrics
Piggies lyrics
Poor Little Girl lyrics
Run Of The Mill lyrics
That's The Way It Goes lyrics
This Is Love lyrics
Unconsciousness Rules lyrics
Unknown Delight lyrics
Wake Up My Love lyrics
What Is Live lyrics
When We Was Fab lyrics
Wrack My Brain lyrics
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Artist: George Harrison
Song title: Blood From A Clone
Lyric:
They say they like it, but, now in the market it
May not go well as it's too laid back.
You need some oomph-papa, nothing like Frank Zappa
And not New Wave they don't play that crap
Try beating your head on a brick wall
Hard like a stone
Don't have time for the music
They want the blood from a clone
I hear a clock ticking
I feel the nit-picking
I almost quit kicking at the wall
There seems a confusion, under the illusion
That they know just what will suit you all
Beating my head on a brick wall
Hard like a stone
Ain't got time for the music
They want the blood from a clone
There is no sense to it
Pure pounds and pence to it
They’re so intense too makes me amazed
Don't want no music but, they're making you sick with
Some awful noises that may get played
By beating their heads on a brick wall
Hard like a stone
Ain't no messing `round with music
Give them the blood from a clone
Where will it all lead us
I thought we had freed us
From the mundane seems I’m wrong again
Could be they lack roots, they're still wearing jack boots they're
Marching somewhere in the pouring rain
Beating my head on a brick wall
Hard like a stone
Don't have time for the music
They want the blood from a clone.
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