T Bone Burnett
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I went Euromad out on the road last fallBetween the
Roman churches and the German music hallsWere it not
for Mr. Gordon and his fine distilleryI might have
never got this far, it would be all the same to meIt
started in Bologna when I stepped between the lightsI
thought I'd lost my charisma my life flashed before
my eyesThe communists rejected me,
I didn't fit their planAnd anyway I must assume they're
anti-AmericanIt might have been Geneva in a darkened
discothequeAnd though I met Sophia,
I still got it in the neckA journalist he spied on
me like I always knew they wouldHe wrote me off like
a business trip I felt deeply misunderstoodOr maybe
it was Paris blazing dignity and prideIt's a city full
of heiresses where I very nearly diedI woke up in the
circus with a whistling in my earsI'm ready for the
antidote can you tell me what it isI went Euromad out
on the road last fallBetween the Roman churches and
the German music hallsWere it not for Mr.
Gordon and his fine distilleryI might have never made
it through this EuromiseryWere it not for Mr.
Gordon and his fine distilleryI might have never made
it through this Euromisery


Mirror lyrics:

it through this Euromisery
Gordon and his fine distilleryI might have never made
it through this EuromiseryWere it not for Mr.
Gordon and his fine distilleryI might have never made
the German music hallsWere it not for Mr.
on the road last fallBetween the Roman churches and
antidote can you tell me what it isI went Euromad out
circus with a whistling in my earsI'm ready for the
of heiresses where I very nearly diedI woke up in the
it was Paris blazing dignity and prideIt's a city full
a business trip I felt deeply misunderstoodOr maybe
me like I always knew they wouldHe wrote me off like
I still got it in the neckA journalist he spied on
discothequeAnd though I met Sophia,
anti-AmericanIt might have been Geneva in a darkened
I didn't fit their planAnd anyway I must assume they're
my eyesThe communists rejected me,
thought I'd lost my charisma my life flashed before
started in Bologna when I stepped between the lightsI
never got this far, it would be all the same to meIt
for Mr. Gordon and his fine distilleryI might have
Roman churches and the German music hallsWere it not
I went Euromad out on the road last fallBetween the


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