All of you dead doves on sun-staining streets Becoming soulmates with soles of my feet Clipped little wings Escaping the rain Crash into windows and bruise their bird brains The second verse is as bored as the first Satanic gloom and barbiturate doom Pawning guitars to heat up a spoon You can't just eat shit on an empty stomach And then act surprised at what comes out of itTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
