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Birmingham - The Wolfgang Press



     
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Birmingham Lyrics


Wolfgang
Wolfgang [Incomprehensible]
Wolfgang
WolfgangFace the facts and don't look back
There's a hole in this middle town affair
There's a whole inquest, like a hole in rest
That I think I'm going to have to sit inYou're a sleeping bag
You're a rhyming slugPressure, pressureMan is sick of chairs
From the heart of the sins above ground
Around here, I think I'm Jesus
And I'm sick of all the songs about loveHead hunt in Birmingham
We're going to hurry down the same old roads
I'm not going to think that I'm a Jesus
Sorry this and sorry that's the same old bonePressure, pressure[Incomprehensible]Fix this, kiss thisI'm not sick, I'm going to handle this
I'm going to have everything I want to have
I'm going to seed some mean
I'm going to raise a scene
I'm going to raise everything I ever hadI'm not sick, I'm going to handle this

I'm going to

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Enigmatic, moody, and challenging, Britain's Wolfgang Press were one of the most mercurial talents of the post-punk era, restlessly moving from gothic noise to dark balladry to eccentric funk; paradoxically, the group was also the 4AD label's longest tenured artist -- even their stylish album packages were all the product of the same designer, Alberto Ricci. Formed in London in 1983, the Wolfgang Press comprised vocalist Michael Allen, guitarist Andrew Gray, and keyboardist Mark Cox.

Read more about The Wolfgang Press on Last.fm.


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The Wolfgang Press