I don't think there is a sound than i hate more than the sound of your voice (when) you say that you don't love me anymore... I don't think there is
Well I slept on The solid ground Near your house And it felt just like A barbell wrapped in a shell When I slept on The solid ground Near your house I
We've been living decorations And I'm sad to say To get another place we've Found seamless today To get another place we've found seamless today There
And you were the proudest thing i'd ever seen (2x) and i knew that i couldn't say a thing (2x) ??? struck out the fear that grow black marks When a pigeon
if this is the only way that i can let you know if this is the only way that i can make you sure that i'm tired of not thinking about anyone tired of
You were a witch with your short hair The weather would celebrate us both as we ran all the way home Staked out in the oaks In the form of little brothers
You and Me and the Mountain Compared our rolling tongues in the thin air, When we finally got to, We all cursed, just as expected there was no one there
Knee at the bottom of the wheel as a guide this thing was made to be grabbed and thrown over the side feet on the dashboard on the way home clipping your
this is my best friend's locker without hooks, still catching metal. crossing ponds with no plans for return. air-conditioned hum and 60% glass. milking
Blue Christmas lights tell us stories about ourselves I saw you biting yours nails through a pane of glass in that restaurant late night conversations
It's the grand opening and here we are with picks and pans to sift with our wrists on broken armrests the bitter taste of aluminum and.. broken glass
Migration to a town where tree swallows houses migration to a town where tree, swallows, houses like a mime troupe ( stowin' (?) ), we're all aging doubles
Pets and the sound of pets And the subtlety of traffic jams When building a glass friend We posted pictures of everyone we've known Traveling without
Listen to the sounds they make, the sounds they make, the sounds they make So far from the middle, so far from the middle Listen to the sounds they make
Where whose trees finally sigh And all the rain has covered Where I was pierced slowly by The happy humming all the more When you look out on the Midwest
Frame the shot This is World War II And everyone here is thinking of you Did you save the clippings from Barbara Eden at the mall? Or did you save room
you like to think of the names of the streets in the town where you came from then imagine the day when the signs were first hung and you're sure that
Vertimas: Žemėlapiai ir atlasai. Dauguma Patikima skardines.
