The pop don't sound the same no more When I pull the cork Never about the taste before It was a hunt for sport
A sea of fading faces I was stupid and proud Eyes as sharp as knives Cut me out of the crowd
Wine still cheap and red Eyes still deep and true Glasses raise again Drink to the pulp of youth Climb the vine again, my friend
Not everybody makes it Casualties of some plot Not a pro just a lucky onTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
