Never did what you were told Only took what you were sold in Mayfair On a Sunday Never did what you were told Just wanted hands to hold, never let go But they let go Dyed your hair every shade of blonde Dark brown for the winter's cold in New York In the city
One night in Camden Town Saw your shadow hanging 'round by the bus stop Or the chip shop To me, your mystery Brought you closer to something I could feel for And would want more Drugs come and go like leaves On the trees or in the streets, eyeliner Made you lighter
A body in the bathroom Secrets written on the walls Drowning out the siren calls Listening to nightmares Men with boots and silver swords Banging all night on the door Punching till their hands are raw
Peaches, peaches, peaches Peaches, peaches, peaches Peaches, peaches, peaches Peaches, peaches, peachesTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
