The perfect taste.
The perfect taste for a hungry bohemian.
You don't know how to be a father to your son
And he doesn't want to be a mother to everyone.
No one.
What's your name Outis, what's your name?
I wonder if cinemas are lonely places?
I think about Putin's nightmares in grand spaces:
The one where he walks through the corridors but the phones don't ring.
The secretary's there but the phone's off.
No one.
No one.
I heard someone on the TV say: "It was so empty it felt like Mars."
I wanted to cry out and say: I feel the same.
But I'm no one.
Outis, What's your name? No one.
I wanted to cry out and say:
It won't happen again.
The perfect taste for a hungry bohemian,
After mother's milk.
Outis.
What's your name?
Martha Skye Murphy - Outis Lyrics
Martha Skye Murphy - Outis Lyrics
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The perfect taste.
The perfect taste for a hungry bohemian.
You don't know how to be a father to your son
And he doesn't want to be a mother to everyone.
No one.
What's your name Outis, what's your name?
I wonder if cinemas are lonely places?
I think about Putin's nightmares in grand spaces:
The one where he walks through the corridors but the phones don't ring.
The secretary's there but the phone's off.
No one.
No one.
I heard someone on the TV say: "It was so empty it felt like Mars."
I wanted to cry out and say: I feel the same.
But I'm no one.
Outis, What's your name? No one.
I wanted to cry out and say:
It won't happen again.
The perfect taste for a hungry bohemian,
After mother's milk.
Outis.
What's your name?
The perfect taste for a hungry bohemian.
You don't know how to be a father to your son
And he doesn't want to be a mother to everyone.
No one.
What's your name Outis, what's your name?
I wonder if cinemas are lonely places?
I think about Putin's nightmares in grand spaces:
The one where he walks through the corridors but the phones don't ring.
The secretary's there but the phone's off.
No one.
No one.
I heard someone on the TV say: "It was so empty it felt like Mars."
I wanted to cry out and say: I feel the same.
But I'm no one.
Outis, What's your name? No one.
I wanted to cry out and say:
It won't happen again.
The perfect taste for a hungry bohemian,
After mother's milk.
Outis.
What's your name?
Writer: Martha Skye Murphy
Copyright: Lyrics © Sentric Music
Copyright: Lyrics © Sentric Music