Текст Billy Corgan – Buffalo Boys

Pasty-faced villains
Chalkware pilfers dimes
Pasty-faced villains
My baubles ain’t your kind

Oh, gather up Sunday
Sunday makes things right
Say, rail against persimmon
Clothed in bat thorn fright
‘Cause to dash from one outdrawn
You make sunrise

Tears from our maker
Fall like rain on a windshield
In that vast, old motion picture
That they call our reflection
In the flesh
In the flesh

You court cold and union
To shine me like you could
You mourn as Delilah
Her best was hardly good
So know a Buffalo boy leaves
He gains sainthood

Tears from our maker
Fall like rain on a windshield
In the vast, old motion picture
That they call our reflection
In the flesh
Shorn from mist

Oh, when ought we marry
And drink to artesian wealth
So when ought we marry
Betrothed beneath the shells
‘Cause any thirst that slows your gait
It’s still a spell
Yes, any thirst that slows your gait
Is still a spell