Nada parece estar roto hoy (sólo la voz del que llega tarde).

sábado, 18 de julio de 2009

I said, we´ll drown ourselves in misery tonight. I lied, you´ve worn out all your dancing shoes this time. Just give us war, worn lipstick by the door if I inflame.
These eyes have had too much to drink again tonight. Black skies, we´ll douse ourselves in high explosive light.
Just give us war, I´ve been calling you all week for my shotgun.
Pick up the phone! Pick up the phone, fucker.
I wanna see what you´re insides look like. I bet you´re not fucking pretty on the inside. I wanna see what you´re insides look like. I wanna see em.
Well you don´t say And well I can explain what happened to my face late last night.
I´m sleepin next to pools in vacant alleyways
And what I´m going through, shot lipgloss through my veins. And when I can´t complain With the falling rain.
Come on!
I wanna save your heart, I wanna see what your insides may be.

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