3 acessos
Two young horses dragging to St Pete
Worn out tired, right here
And the night falls on this oceans' white hour
'Cause you won't be coming home to me
And you said it sad and so playfully
I wish God would make things clear
'Cause there's no fight left in me
Relentlessly the sun is igniting
While all these concrete boxes sit empty
On these defeated Floridian streets
I know you won't be coming home to me
Two young horses dragging to St Pete
Worn out, tired
Worn out, tired
There's no fight left in me