6 acessos
Read the odds of this song
Walk colder home, walk cold
My press face on the ice lead
A time is heaven when you call
Painted lipstick on it
Walk the truth up to me
Border like all the others
Just one of my sweaters
Made of something better
So throw a ball up into space
Hold the phone up to its face
Leave it outside in the rain
A tired walk by it's head
Never speak of me again