BECK


Cellphone's Dead Lyrics

Strange ways coming today; I put a dollar in my pocket and I threw it away
Been a long time since a federal dime
Made a jukebox sound like a mirror in my mind
To comb my worries, fix my thoughts, throw my hopes like a juggernaut walks
Now let-down souls can't feel no rhythm
Sorry entertainers like aerobics victims
Hybrid people light a wooded matchstick
Toxic fumes from the burning plastic
Beats are broken, bones are spastic, Robots talkin' with a southern accent
Voodoo curses, Bible tongues, voices comin' from the mangled lungs
Give me some grit, some get-down shit
Don't need a good reason to let anything rip

Radio's cold, soul is infected
[One by one, I'll knock you out]
God is alone, Hardware defective
[One by one, I'll knock you out]

Mr. Microphone making all the damage felt
Like a laser manifesto make a mannequin melt
There's people phonin' in like it's unlimited minutes
Going through the motions just to say that they did it
Treadmill's running underneath their feet
So they feel like they're going somewhere, but they're not
So let's put boots on the warehouse floor
Comin' to you like a rope on a chainstore
Throwing equipment from a moving van
Grab a microphone like a utility man
Now fix the beat, now break the rest
Make a kick drum sound like an S.O.S.
Get a tow-truck cause it's after dark
And the dance floor's full, but everybody's double-parked!

Cell phone's dead, lost in the desert
[One by one, I'll knock you out]
Eye of the sun is out of its socket
[One by one, I'll knock you out]

[One by one This jam is real... that's right]

Eye of the sun
Eye of the sun
Eye of the sun

Ahhhhhhhhhh

Songwriter(s): Beck Hansen
Copyright: Plastic Kosmos Music, Sony/ATV Tunes LLC
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