What Have We Become
All those years
One day changes everything, and
Gone and your life and the passion fades away
Saving for something
That you'll never see in your days
Shutting out everything that you need
(Looking through distorted eyes)
Beautiful disaster
(Adding up a million lies)
So much for ?€?ever after?€?
Building up your wall
Everything you wanted
Fit the pieces into holes we used to crowd away
Giving in or leaving this now
Now we have what we have become
All the tears
We never thought we'd see the day when
The trappings of your life would seem to disappear
Goin through the vacancy you leave behind
Not what you have promised,
Not what you believed
(Looking through distorted eyes)
Beautiful disaster
(Adding up a million lies)
So much for ?€?ever after?€?
Building up your wall
Everything you wanted
Fit the pieces into holes we used to crowd away
Finding out the truth, when nothing really matters
Chase the light that's blinding even as you crowd away
Now we have what we have become
Now you fight to ease your pain
Now you know it's not the way out
Now you know it's not the way out
Not the way out
Building up your wall
Everything you wanted
Fit the pieces into holes we used to crowd away
Finding out the truth, when nothing really matters
Chase the light that's blinding even as you crowd away
Now we have what we have become
Похожие новости.
Лише Тоб
День, щоб ми зустрілись, Нам Бог дав день, щоб ти і я, У очі вперше, вперше подивились З любов’ю назавжди. День, щоб ми пізнали Солодкий гріх на смак біди, І ти пробач, я не сказала, Що люблю
Run To You
Tomorrow's taking me away from you Like a jealous lover Kiss me one last time Before I go down this broken road I follow You will leave me torn and sting me like A thorn
A Message To The Feds, Sincerely, We The People
[Verse 1: Nas] I walk the block like whatever god, my message to y'all feds Who desperate to arrest us young, benevolent hardheads Abrochrombie & Finch rockin', wrist glistenin' marksman Hitchcock of Hip-Hop since
Конец Прекрасной Эпохи
стихи И.Бродского Потому что искусство поэзии требует слов, я - один из глухих, облысевших, угрюмых послов второсортной державы, связавшейся с этой,- не желая насиловать собственный мозг, сам себе подавая одежду, спускаюсь в киоск за вечерней газетой. Ветер
Кто Был Ничем…
1. Я - мальчишка беспризорный, голь-сирота, Революционный сын страны своей босой. "Дайте медный грошик, господин хороший, Вам вернется рубль золотой, ой-ой. Дайте медный грошик, господин хороший, Вам вернется рубль золотой!" 2. На грошик этот леденцов вразвес Барышне
