Текст песни
Who died?
Our Akita
Evita
You make fun, yet I'm the one
Attempting to do some good
Or do you really want a neighborhood
Where people piss on your
Stoop every night?
Bohemia, Bohemia's
A fallacy in your head
This is Calcutta
Bohemia is dead
Dearly beloved we gather here to say our goodbyes
Here she lies, no one knew her worth
The late great daughter of Mother Earth
On these nights when we
Celebrate the birth
In that little town of Bethlehem
We raise our glass, you bet your ass to
La vie Boheme
(La vie Boheme)
(La vie Boheme)
(La vie Boheme)
(La vie Boheme)
To days of inspiration
Playing hookey, making
Something out of nothing (la vie Boheme)
The need to express
To communicate (la vie Boheme)
To going against the grain
Going insane, going mad (la vie Boheme)
To loving tension, no pension (la vie Boheme)
To more than one dimension (la vie Boheme)
To starving for attention
Hating convention, hating pretension (la vie Boheme)
Not to mention of course
Hating dear old Mom and Dad (la vie Boheme)
To riding your bike (la vie Boheme)
Midday past the three-piece suits (la vie Boheme)
To fruits, to no absolutes
To Absolute, to choice (la vie Boheme)
To the Village Voice (la vie Boheme)
To any passing fad
To being an us for once, instead of a them
La vie Boheme (la vie Boheme)
Hey Mister, she's my sister
So that's five miso soup, four seaweed salad
Three soy burger dinner, two tofu dog platter
And one pasta with meatless balls
Eww
It tastes the same
If you close your eyes
And thirteen orders of fries
Is that it here?