Žodžiai dainai: Alison Moyet. This House.
:
Whose sticky hands are these?
And what is this empty place
I could be happily lost but for your face
Here stands an empty house
That used to be full of life
Now it's home for no one and his wife
It's a hovel and
Who can take your place?
I can't face another day
And who will shelter me?
It's cold in here
Cover me
Under these fingertips a strange body rolls and dips
I close my eyes and you're here again
Later as day descends
I'll shout from my window
To anyone listening. "I'm loosing"
Who can take your place?
I can't face another day
And who will shelter me?
It's cold in here
Cover me
Oh in a plague of hateful questioning
Tap dancing every syllable from ear to ear
I hear the din of lovers jousting
When I'm hiding with my head to the wall
Who will shelter me?
It's cold in here
Whose sticky hands are these?
And what is this empty place
I could be happily lost but for your face
Here stands an empty house
That used to be full of life
Now it's home for no one and his wife
It's a hovel and
Who can take your place?
I can't face another day
And who will shelter me?
It's cold in here
Cover me
Under these fingertips a strange body rolls and dips
I close my eyes and you're here again
Later as day descends
I'll shout from my window
To anyone listening. "I'm loosing"
Who can take your place?
I can't face another day
And who will shelter me?
It's cold in here
Cover me
Oh in a plague of hateful questioning
Tap dancing every syllable from ear to ear
I hear the din of lovers jousting
When I'm hiding with my head to the wall
Who will shelter me?
It's cold in here
Moyet, Alison
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