I just got off the plane about ten minutes ago And I'm nine drinks down, I've got nowhere to go But I ride a single star That generates no heat in your hand And I'm a boxer bucking on the back of the beat I'm a jet plane rising, turning on the heat And I'll swagger and sway But I'll find my feet hang around me
Hang by, hang by Hang by, hang by Hang by, hang by Hang by, hang by me
Iron Man's sick of being Tony Stark And the Silversurfer's lost his silver heart But you can see my secret identity Just slipping off the page into your hands
And receivers ring and telephones buzz And the lines get tangled and they'll quicken your blood But the taste of your skin is always enough So hang around me
Hang by, hang by Hang by, hang by Hang by, hang by Hang by, hang by me
From Weavers Field to Central Park Oh ours is the time that turns life into dark And the evening strips away And I forget to say what I meant to say I forget to say what I meant to say
But I'm always arriving ten minutes too late An there's too much on my mind, too much on your plate And you know, and you know... You should really stick around
Hang by, hang by Hang by, hang by Hang by, hang by Hang by, hang by ... Hang by, hang by me
Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
