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You Will Never Work in Television Again
par
Thom Yorke
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Fear not my love, he's a fat f**king mess With bones put out, girls slitting their wrists Curtain calling for the kids from the nursery rhyme Underneath some rock, underneath some bridge Some gangster troll promising another Alright, alright, alright Some kid in golden chains, new slippery ropes At the lonely states, [?] being paid, cleaning my left foot Turn the lights down low, put the bullet on you You'll never work in television again He chews them up, he spits thеm out It's what's his name, [?] A can of [?] A can of [?] All those beautiful hopеs and dreams devoured by those evil eyes and those piggy limbs You sad f**k throwing small change Get your dirty hands off my love Heaven knows that your bad Heaven knows that your bad Heaven knows that your bad Heaven knows that your bad Heaven knows that your bad
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Ton pseudo sera publié. Laisses les champs vide pour rester anonyme.
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