Battle For Britain (The Letter)
My, my, the time do fly
When it's in another pair of hands
And a loser I will be
For I've never been a winner in my life
I got used to stressing pain
I used the sucker pills to pity for the self
Oh, it's the animal in me
But I'd rather be a beggarman on the shelf
Don't be so forlorn, it's just the payoff
It's the rain before the storm
On a better day, I'll take you by the hand
And I'll walk you through the doors
Don't be so forlorn, it's just the payoff
It's the rain before the storm
Don't you let my letter get you down
Don't you, don't you, don't you, don't you
My, my, but time do fly
When it's in another pair of pants
And illusion I will be
For I've never been a sinner, la di da
Don't be so forlorn, it's just the payoff
It's the rain before the storm
Don't you let my letter get you down
Don't you, don't you, don't you, don't you
nwod uoy teg rettel ym tel uoy t'nod
Don't you let my letter get you down, down, down, down
Don't you, don't you, don't you, don't you
Don't you let my letter get you down, down, down, down
Don't you, don't you, don't you, don't you
Down, down, down, down, down, down
Down, down, down, down, down, down
Down, down, down, down, down, down
Похожие новости.
You Can’t Hurry Love
I need love, love To ease my mind I need to find, find someone to call mine But mama said You can't hurry love No, you just have to wait She said love don't come easy It's
Осень И Зима
Мой украденый покой Кто, скажи, теперь с тобой? Голос твой из пустоты Все еще со мною ты И согреть, да не согрел И догнать, да не сумел Жизнь решила все сама: Осень я, и ты - зима Припев: Забудь
You Can’t Be True
I'm gonna leave you baby In the morning I'll be gone Like a song at the end cause you begin to irritate I just can't wait I pack my bags what a drag Gonna leave this
Білі Вогн
Мовою снів ти мені, нарешті, все розповів Але все вже прийшло, що було те було Вже не повернеш Ти зрозумів, що минуле зберегти не зумів І у світлі вогнів заблукати хотів В океані слів Приспів: Десь на
Ти Спиш
Та не однаково мені, Як Україну злії люде Присплять, лукаві... Т. Шевченко Коли серед безміру днів приходить спроквола отой один - Ти спиш... Коли на батьківських горбах сини виїжджають з похмілля в рай, Ти спиш... Коли блудні діти твої з далеких світів повертають домів, Ти