Jean Croc:
Don't be light
Don't be light
Don't be light
Maybe like me
Don't be light
Don't be light
Don't be light
Maybe like me
Don't be light
Don't
Don't
Don't be light
Don't
Maybe like me
Don't be light
Don't be light
Don't be light
Maybe like me
Don't be light
Beck:
(don't be light
don't be light, a ha)
Wild life
The grey surprises of our days
Singing in caves
Fabricating a new abandon
We don't see the master's hand
We bang on gold tamourines
In the cross hairs of some transient gun
Trading desires on the banquet line
La, la, la, la, la, la,
La, la, la, la, la, la,
La, la, la, la, la, la,
La, la, la, la, la, la,
Jean Croc:
Don't
Don't be light
Don't
Maybe like me
Don'y be light
Don't be light
Don't be light
Maybe like me
Don't be light
