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Artiste:
Bob Dylan
Titre:
Disease Of Conceit
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There's a whole lot of people suffering tonight From the disease of conceit. Whole lot of people struggling tonight From the disease of conceit. Comes right down the highway, Straight down the line, Rips into your senses Through your body and your mind. Nothing about it that's sweet, The disease of conceit. There's a whole lot of hearts breaking tonight From the disease of conceit, Whole lot of hearts shaking tonight From the disease of conceit. Steps into your room, Eats your soul, Over your senses You have no control. Ain't nothing too discreet About of disease of conceit. There's a whole lot of people dying tonight From the disease of conceit, Whole lot of people crying tonight From the disease of conceit, Comes right out of nowhere And you're down for the count From the outside world, The pressure will mount, Turn you into a piece of meat, The disease of conceit. Conceit is a disease That the doctors got no cure They've done a lot of research on it But what it is, they're still not sure There's a whole lot of people in trouble tonight From the disease of conceit, Whole lot of people seeing double tonight From the disease of conceit, Give ya delusions of grandeur And a evil eye Give you idea that You're too good to die, Then they bury you from your head to your feet From the disease of conceit.