there's this broad road paved with oak leaves narrow sidewalks curbstones like crooked teeth and yet you run in slippery shoes with threadbare soles to the rythm and blues the rhythm swings with the beat and sings this last years song a singalong that we sang too long now on sore feet next on sore knees scraping your hands graveled streets with bleeding hands you gather all your stuff and you leave behind what never brought you luck you're dashing from shadows on black painted walls you're reciteing from your regrets on a trees unsound bark you'll never know when it will show it's face or rip apart the connection between your head and heart and on that day just be prepared and spit the words right at it's face the words you saved that night that day and if you raise your voice you'll might end up with a synapse that will make you feel quite reliefed but without a word to say you will surely end up with a million others that will leave you standing there forever in grief it meant nothing to them but meant everything to you before they changed it all again the rhythm swings with the beat and sings this last years song the rhythm swings on my blues and sings a singalong that we sang to longTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
