Contactez-nous

• Artiste: John Wesley Harding
• Titre: Dead On Arrival
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.
They gave me doses of dioxide Started coughing constantly Nursed inside my wounded pride Poisoned arrow in my knee Then they stood around my bed Said I was getting on famously A faceless man in a TV van Reprogrammed my naivety I met you sparring in a corner And you spat right in my face People say it looks like tears Because they'll have seen the trace And they take it as their job of work To put me right back in my place And I pretend that I wanna be A contender in the human race Now when you hit me I don't cry The only thing that remains for me Is to learn how I can say goodbye Cos I'm ready, steady, dead on arrival I'm ready, steady, dead on arrival I'm ready, steady, dead on arrival You know I thought that this was mist But now I guess it is pollution Caused by an economy of half-truths And the resulting confusion You sign a form the day you're born That commits you to collusion With society's special standards And its optical illusions Someone says you're still alive Gives you great expectations But now you know you're dead inside Cos you feel no shock vibrations Now you must control yourself You can always cheat at patience Soon I'll be right in the dog house Food for FBI alsations Now when you hit me I don't cry The only thing that remains for me Is to learn how I can say goodbye Cos I'm ready, steady, dead on arrival I'm ready, steady, dead on arrival I'm ready, steady, dead on arrival Dead on arrival