5 acessos
In the night where I live,
There's strange force in your kiss, oh.
All's divine in desire.
With an ire of philosophy,
Burning scrolls in the naked heat,
Oh, how coy is your little boy. No!
'Cause I know it don't read that well.
I got buried,
No, it won't be long, before I rise in.
I got buried,
No, it won't be long, yeah.
In the night where I live,
Your children sway, they fuel the kitch.
Raise their glass to soviet cries in the ward,
And in shadows.
Outright, in times of old,
Fumes are falling, smell them burn,
Like always, yes always.
Now here!
'Cause I know it don't read that well.
And I know only time will tell, me.
I got buried,
No, it won't be long, before I rise in.
I got buried,
No, it won't be long before I rise in song!
And I know it don't read that well, yeah!
I got buried,
No it won't be long, before I rise in.
I got, oh, buried.
Oh no!
'Cause I know I got you.