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• Artiste: This Town Needs Guns
• Titre: Baboon
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INCORRECT: avant la mauvaise ligne
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Autrement, nous ne pouvons les corriger pas! Merci pour votre aide.
While time waits for no man I'll be here in winter. Tear down your baracades so I may enter. Your lips are warm they comfort me. Open up and lets begin. So I'll lay on this bed that I have made. So soundly sleep and whisper your name. Oooooh you...you burn me up. One touch and I am in a trance like state. Entwinning our fates to another the cost of our will now both bound to each other. What was in your head when you said ?until death?? The marks upon your skin tell tales while envy mocks without remorse and ties you up in knots. One touch and I am in a trance like state. Entwinning our fates to another the cost of our will now both bound to each other. What was in your head when you said ?until death?? Your lies unfold like lines that were left in turn and consequently told all.