terça-feira, agosto 14, 2012

the end of me

Getting drunk in taxi cabs
and writing names on backs of hands
Figuring how to get to you
We're making room for alibis
when something tells me telling lies
is only out of trying to be true
Will we never ever learn
that things can go from bad to worse
And worst of all we'd love it if they did
Knowing what you said to me
Beneath your breast so plain to me
be careful now, we're camping in a corner of the room

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