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Artiste: Front Bottoms (The)
Titre: Trampied

Assurez-vous que les corrections sont tout à fait exactes
S'il vous plaît, les mettez en évidence en quelque sorte!
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INCORRECT: avant la mauvaise ligne
CORRECT: avant la correspondant ligne correcte
Autrement, nous ne pouvons les corriger pas! Merci pour votre aide.

I never done, only sold it to a couple of my friends, 
And now they're tellin' that they feel fine
And it's a backwards way of thinkin', but it's all that I got
So I will keep it in the back of my mind
And it's a lonely conversation with a stranger I met, 
Askin' me what I'm gonna do tonight
But I will never sleep again so you can come on over
I bet you fifty bucks this works out fine

And it's a phone call that says you hate me
Your boyfriend wants to know where I've been
But it's a waste of time, you see, I've lost weight; 
My bones are practically stickin' through my skin
And it's a question of religion, a question I want answered
It's an answer that is in myself
But I am absent, and I am hollow
Most of the time I think I'm someone else

But I am bored, just like a summer cop, 
Think what I'm doing's gonna make a difference
And I keep screaming, asking him to stop, 
But I doubt he will because he never listens
My bed is small, but I cannot complain, 
Because it won't, it won't make a difference
You could come over, if that is what you decide, 
And we could both stay up, try to watch the sunrise

It's a phone call that says you hate me
Your boyfriend wants to know where I've been
But it's a waste of time, you see, I've lost weight; 
My bones are practically stickin' through my skin
And it's a question of religion, a question I want answered
It's an answer that is in myself
But I am absent, and I am hollow
Most of the time I think I'm someone else

But it's a phone call that says you hate me (Why do you hate me?). 
And your boyfriend, he wants to know where I've been (Why do you hate me?). 
But it's a waste of time, you see, I've lost weight; 
My bones are practically stickin' through my skin
Through my skin, through my skin

But it's a phone call that says you hate me
Your boyfriend wants to know where I've been
But it's a waste of time, you see, I've lost weight; 
My bones are practically stickin' through my skin
And it's a question of religion, a question I want answered (I got questions)
It's an answer that is in myself (I got questions)
But I am absent, and I am hollow
Most of the time I think I'm someone else