Well talk about expectation Why don’t you meet me at the station? And we’ll remember the first thorn pricking the skin. Breaking the skin to get in. I am worn, I am reduced. I am reduced my body to my quiet bed. Running around the things that I said whilst driving, The songs in my head, I am elated, I am suffused, With my freedom and my friends. Is it you and me against the world exclusive? Or them against us, or us all against each other to the end? Oh I am a burnt out fuse, What do I have to lose except the blues. I’m a burnt out fuse. What do I have to lose?
I beg your pardon but I never promised you nothing. And I suppose that was good because I never got nothing. I beg your pardon but I never promised you a rose garden, Or a pretty picture of health The sky and the window is a simple wealth of colours And anyway, we all go on. Do they? Do they?
Oh i am a burnt out fuse, What do I have to lose except the blues? I’m a burnt out fuse. What do I have to lose?
I beg your pardon but I never promised you nothing, And I suppose that was good because I never got nothing. I beg your pardon but I never promised you a rose garden.
I am a burnt out fuse What do I have to lose except the blues I’m a burnt out fuse. What do I have to lose?Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
