Thursday Morning Blues Songtext
von The Wooden Wolf

With every erection
There′s a sad ambition
Like a hope for surrender
Or some kind of redemption


So I hold on to my love
Though I'm empty-handed
I try to pull myself off
But too much is expected

I can′t make myself come
And it makes me so lonely
My body has grown numb
And still it whirs so gently

My soul it is hungry
But my flesh it won't sing
It is offended and angry
For the relief it won't bring