You say you are an old cassette that has gone and spilt its spool you're far more like a wet cardboard tube on this nightclub toilet floor. As I describe my lonely, you listen very clear: the last set of goalposts taken down, summer of odd numbered year.
She says "if you're unhappy, then you gotta find the cure" Well I prescribe me one more beer, beyond that I am unsure May not be be all and end all, in my defence she is the whole I've thrown my goalkeeper forward, she's catenaccio
Flotsam, Jetsam and Spindrift: all the girls I have loved, dumped to earth by a spendthrift, gilt angels from above. And I saw God in the bathroom, I baptised him in sick embraced him around his cistern "c'est la mort!, enough of this".
Knees knocking and Blood flowing so I want you to know that I want to.
And later she said something that stuck hard in my mind: "we are their Capel Celyn, they gotta keep their slippers dry, to empathise with Tory's to invite upon disease, a safer bet's to pack your bags, go holiday in Eyam"
I will take you where the sun shines, cast shadows on your face, crawl into their deepest recess, 'til I freeze or dehydrate We'll live and breathe it in real time, montage is for the dead and my heart's still doing Fosburys nowhere near finished yetTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
