Home
Top Artistes
Top Paroles
Ajouter Paroles
Contact
menu
search
Contactez-nous
Artiste:
Rocom
Titre:
My Last Goodbye
Assurez-vous que les corrections sont tout à fait exactes
S'il vous plaît, les mettez en évidence en quelque sorte!
Vous pouvez, par exemple, écrire
INCORRECT: avant la mauvaise ligne
CORRECT: avant la correspondant ligne correcte
Autrement, nous ne pouvons les corriger pas! Merci pour votre aide.
I'm in a dark room but the walls are see-through, it's not made of glass and I'm thankful for that. I see 'em stand in the back drinking hand looking cool. I know that some lube the mood to keep the social. I stay vocal, with anything that I hold that won't break and explode. So that one episode turning hearts stone. Not a sun to the earth, never ever how it goes. Those lips destroy but I'm not the same boy. I'm a one, take it or leave it up to kill the noise. So koi, hiding looks behind hands. So smart, black frame, wrote a book to see the past. How long? It couldn't last, bound to happen. They stop dancing, we got trapped in. Had a shovel and an axe to crack it open. We stay hoping for something, for something better than this. The haze clears from your eyes on a Sunday, on a Sunday. The haze clears from your eyes on a Sunday, on a Sunday. They turn around, leave the room, left to stand an assume. It was right from wrong, no other way to carry on. Put a mask on after one last song. Was that one track? Yeah, this shit is bomb. And Rossy G. knew it, Heavy K been through it. Joey Carver on stage back me up, let's do it. My cool whip cracks a cut that won't close. The bright red streak drips down on her toes. Smear tracks on the road all the way back home. Bread crumbs, but we got nowhere to go. I wanna pick it up move fast. I heard 'em say, "Don't do that it won't fix the past. Won't switch wrong to right." Do you have light? I don't smoke, but you could try. Hand me mine. I'm looking down at the mic and how I hold it. I stay hoping for something, for something better than this. The haze clears from your eyes on a Sunday, on a Sunday. The haze clears from your eyes on a Sunday, on a Sunday. You didn't get what you came for, forgot it in the hustle. We struggle with the puzzle; we fall, we fumble. Climbed up your hair from the ground like Rapunzel. A bad name, sweet dame, ready to rumble. She like to cuddle, like they all seem to do. But it's a mash up when we got nothing to prove. I wanna seem all move, get a move from this. I want 'em all to see how I'm consumed by this. I wanna clinch up my fist, risk to break my wrist on a face like his. Yeah, you could say I'm pissed. But it's not what I came for, what I came to do. It's the same old shit that controls my mood. I'm sure she knew, so we stir with a big stick. Ask questions last, what we learn from it? I give a last kiss on the cheek to you. We won't speak on a Sunday, I think we're through. The haze clears from your eyes on a Sunday, on a Sunday. The haze clears from your eyes on a Sunday, on a Sunday. This is not 'us', this is you and I 'cause this is what I call my last goodbye. This is not 'us', this is you and I 'cause this is what I call my last goodbye. This is not 'us', this is you and I 'cause this is what I call my last goodbye. This is not 'us', this is you and I 'cause this is what I call my last goodbye. This is not 'us', this is you and I 'cause this is what I call my last goodbye. This is not 'us', this is you and I 'cause this is what I call my last goodbye. This is not 'us', this is you and I 'cause this is what I call my last goodbye...