We know of an ancient radiation That haunts dismembered constellations A faintly glimmering radio station While Frank Sinatra sings stormy weather The
At first I was afraid, I was petrified I kept thinking I could never live without you by my side But then I spent so many nights Just thinking how you
I'm writing a song all about you A true song as real as my tears But you've no need to fear it 'Cause no one will hear it Sad songs and waltzes aren't
your mattress back in 1982 Daria, I won't be soothed Daria yeah, I won't be soothed over Like smoothed over, like milk, silk, a bedspread or a quilt Icing on a cake
It's coming down. It's coming down. It's raining outside. You've nowhere to hide. She's asking you Why you think it's funny. It's coming down. It's coming
ride and wrangle Who look at your face, from more than one angle Can cut you from their bloated budgets Like sharpened knives through chicken Mc Nuggets
To me, coming from you, friend is a four letter word End is the only part of the word that I heard Call me morbid or absurd, but to me, coming from you
At first I was afraid. I was petrified. I kept thinking I could never live Without you by my side. But then I spent so many nights Just thinking how you
You won't admit you love me And so how am I ever to know? You only tell me Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps A million times I ask you And then I ask you over
You won't admit you love me. And so how am I ever to know? You only tell me Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. A million times I ask you, And then I ask
She's writing, she's writing She's writing a novel She's writing, she's weaving Conceiving a plot It quickens, it thickens You can't put it down now It
She doesn't care Whether or not he's an island And she doesn't care Just as long as his ship's coming in She doesn't care Whether or not he's an island
Stickshifts and safetybelts Bucket seats have all got to go When we?re driving in the car It makes my baby seem so far I need you here with me Not way
Last night I said to her I didn't want to live inside a lie If she wants him, more than she wants me Let this be She'll come back to me She'll come back
The land of race car ya-yas The land where you can't change lanes The land where large fuzzy dice still hang proudly Like testicles from rear view mirrors
Reluctantly crouched at the starting line Engines pumping and thumping in time The green light flashes, the flags go up Churning and burning, they yearn
Okay alright, uh no This one, this one, this one Heads of state, who ride and wrangle Who look at your face, from more than one angle Can cut you from
Переклад: Торт. Мода Самородок (батьківського контролю).
