Don’t tell me I belong I don’t care where the keys are Don’t tell me that you long To brush my hair where the bees are
You’ll never see the darkest night Or the colour of the Negro The beauty’s in the innocence below
Your adolescent charms Free my soul, feed my ego As you navigate the calm Sand and storm, that goes where we go
The legacy of old wives’ tales Diminishes reality Of minor parts played out on bended knee
No preachers, no religious key No bleeding hearts, no refugee, No hope
Don’t tell me of regrets All in all no concession No one can read our heads No one can hear our confession
We celebrate in plastic shows And the seventies are throwaway In minor keys and drugs that steal the day
No preachers, no religious key No bleeding hearts, no refugee, No hope
You think that you perform But you perform like a stray dog You shelter from the storm By counting time like a meat hog
It’s hard to see the darkest night Or the colour of the Negro I wanna see the light before I go
No preachers, no religious key No bleeding hearts, no refugee, No hopeTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
