To be killed by two hands of yours, it's love and the table is bare. All that's left is my ear and the soft sound of grass. Waiting here is nothing compared to waiting there... Waiting here is nothing compared to waiting there...
To be killed by two feet of yours, it's hate and the table is bare. All that's left is my mouth and the sweet and bitter taste of chocolate and figs. Waiting here is nothing compared to waiting there... Waiting here is nothing compared to waiting there...
To be killed by two mouths of yours, it's hate and the table is bare. All that's left are my eyes and the brilliant sight of red. Waiting, waiting, waiting waiting...Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
