It’s 6am Some girls walking up in hills in San Francisco. Where’s the mist?
The wind breathes past her Caught her right above her neck, she had a wish tho, She insists.
That everyone around who Sees her gentle face will turn into stone, Never speak
To anyone who prays To just be broken like a wishbone, Cause we are weak.
I think you’re going to be Okay you crazy, screwed up lady. I think you’re going to be Okay you crazy, screwed up lady. I think you’re going to be Okay.
That every step she takes Her tears make her appear like a pretty mime, No-one blinks.
That morning glow has Kissed the streams open her face and now it’s half 9, An old man winks.
She sees him sitting there Upon a wooden chair right in the middle Of the road.
And this guy looks at her And turns not into stone but smiles a little, So she shows.
Him all the bruises And the scars across her body, they’re on purpose. She still stands.
Still the old man sits And checks and prays for her but she ain’t nervous, Holds her hand.
I think you’re going to be Okay you crazy, screwed up lady. I think you’re going to be Okay you crazy, screwed up lady. I think you’re going to be Okay you crazy, screwed up lady. I think you’re going to be Okay you crazy, screwed up lady.
I think you’re going to be okay.
I think you’re going to be Okay you crazy, screwed up lady. I think you’re going to be Okay you crazy, screwed up lady. I think you’re going to be Okay you crazy, screwed up lady. I think you’re going to be Okay you crazy, screwed up lady.
I think you’re going to be Okay you crazy, screwed up lady. I think you’re going to be Okay.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
