Off, the bow; strained No arrows, there never were Run, evil; run. Too late now to get tired. Your light Burning hot, waiting for tomorrow Darkening, smoldering, brought back to mind In another time. In confidence... self-pity Frankly, I'm expecting a lot from in a minute A tender look at least. Investigation fouled the last Be wary, wanted, a conqueror; for ugliness So what do we find, why don't youm learn
Nymphs of the wood, with their urban disease of suggestion! Limping up to the fountainhead, walking on, out of this world Well maybe you didn't know about the ground water Frankly, I must have expected too much
Pictures of us or just you, me Advertising circles Along your ways in us. A helping reference? Cafff Self-conceit saves the damager. In order that, in order that The blankness of this world's face may be Born into the answers Frankly, I'm expecting great pasts Go on be scared, that's alright Smother truth in a lie and blame someone else Blame innocence, and everyone will sleep real tight
Only after the hanging, that is But before the hangman of awareness Frankly, I'm- I'm expecting too much Sheet music probably won't cure incurability Still, there are other improbabilities, this for oneTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
