Slow death to the nightingale His voice would always fail In tenement towers and on rails And all of these praising words They all seem so absurd, so absurd
Your poverty you declare The paint blisters on your stairs The dampness in your bones is always there And all of these praising words Well, they all seem so absurd, so absurd
Ever thought that you would be This washed up and lonely This washed up and lonely This lonelyTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
