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Fialta

9 acessos

Your youth has run its race
Creeping up slowly

Your mothers face has changed
Ain’t wearing those mini skirts anymore

Drink the world it just won’t fill you up

Holdin’ on to something and you can’t let go
You’re hitting up the bottle right before the show
She’s never mentioned word of it to another soul
‘Cept for somethin’ that she’s feelin’ like the Holy Ghost

Photographs of younger days
Will never make their way
Into your grave

Your father shaves his legs
It’s from his football days
Everyone’s doin’ it to be cool
Doin’ it to be just like you

Holdin’ on to something and you can’t let go
So you’re hittin’ up the bottle right before the show
She’s never mentioned word of it to another soul
‘Cept for somethin’ that she’s feelin’ like the Holy Ghost

If you’re leaving in time for the mourning show
I’ll believe you’re using faith from the depths of your soul
I’ll believe you’re using faith from the depths below

Photographs of younger days
Will never make their way
Into your grave

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