Hoy descubrí lo mucho que te amaba. Cariño mío tu eres sin duda mi gran amor. Tú que tantas cosas lindas me decías. Siempre encendiste el fuego que llevo en mi corazón.
An der Haltestelle stehen und es tut weh dich schon wieder so wieder zu sehen.. Und es tut weh, dass wir gleich wieder gehen.. Und es tut weh, dass man sich nur sieht, weil bei mir so viel Zeug von dir rum liegt das ich nicht mehr ertrage..
Sticks and stones. You're skin and bones. You're a loaded gun. 'Bout to blow. Do your parents know. The place you go. The man you love. That you call home.
I wanna see more planes. And less lines. Fuck your hate signs. Fuck your dollar signs. We were on the wrong track. Of the wrong mind. Thank God we fell off.
Pretty Girls From The Night School. Who Knows what they've been through. Sinking Low in your bar stools. . Oh no here's a new fool. He thinks he knows whatchu been through.
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Can you wake me up?. I feel like I am dieing. Is it ever enough. Or am I still deniing. Our past is fading trough the glass. Is it ever enough. (Will we ever know? x2).
You sit in the bathroom and you paint your toes. I sit on the bed right now and I sing you a song. It's not always easy, but somehow our love stays strong.
It takes a certain kind of man with a certain reputation. To alleviate the cash from a whole entire nation. Take my loose change and build my own space station.
Have you seen the well-to-do. Up on Lenox Avenue. On that famous thoroughfare. With their noses in the air. High hats and arrowed collars. White spats and fifteen dollars.
Hello sir, remember me?. I'm the man you thought I'd never be.. The boy who you reduced to tears,. The lad called "thingy" for six whole years.. Yeah that's right, my names bob,.
Act One is about to begin in 8 seconds.. . VERSE ONE:. First you can't act, now you can't stop,. (What's my motivation?). I used to like you... a lot,.
Let me lie down. Please dont wake me. Nothings sacred. And noone save me. . In my black eye. I can feel it. Moving. Closer. Cant you hear it. . Only gift you gave to me.
I'm on a mission. To abuse my position. Abuse it with you. . Love, I'm a cynical bitch. I'm gonna scratch that itch. With a bitch like you. . Harder thinkers make me miserable.
Silence shields the pain, so you say nothing. Feel they've rigged the game and you're done with lovin'. Only you can see the darkness in the northern lights.
Climbing out of open windows. Crashing down from broken stairs. Keeping watch on smoking cinders. Falling over burning chairs. . Tossed and crossed and screwed in transit.
Skeptic at the feast in ashes. Huntsmen at the voyeurs' ball. Funeral parlour guests invited. Mourning poorly worn by all. . Old and mouldy words of passion.
Poor Mohammed at the peep show. Kick the beggar down the stairs. Can't keep guard, he's old and feeble. Steal his books, burn his prayers. . Poor Mohammed at the keyhole.
(fisher / reid). . I sat me down to write a simple story. Which maybe in the end became a song. In trying to find the words which might begin it. I found these were the thoughts I brought along.