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Artiste:
Beck
Titre:
Deadweight
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INCORRECT: avant la mauvaise ligne
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On a highway unpaved going my wayyou're so alone todaylike a ghost town I've foundthere's no relief, no salt in the seais it true what they sayyou can't behaveyou gamble your soul awaymeasuring your dreams of this life seemslike the gristle of lonelinessdon't let the sun catch ya cryingdon't let the sun catch ya cryingLike an nice age nice dayson your way sipping the golden dregson a rip tide freaks ridesleep inside a parasite's appetiteoh say can't ya see the chemistrythe parasites, the cleanup feedeath leather hands recycled cansget well cards to the hostage vansdon't let the sun catch ya cryingdon't let the sun catch ya cryingYou're a deadweight right straighton your way sunk in the midnight shadeskies burn eyes turnlearning to counterfeit their diseasei nthis town where we roamwe bluff our souls on canteen patiosdrink the greatest draftthe music drags the music drags the music drags...don't let the sun catch ya cryingdon't let the sun catch ya crying