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• Artiste: Chicane
• Titre: 8 (circle)
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INCORRECT: avant la mauvaise ligne
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Philosophise your figure What I haven't held You called, I came, stayed tall through it all Fall and fixture just the same thing Say nothing of my fable, no What on earth is left to come Who's agonised and gnawed through it all I'm underneath your tongue I'm standing in your street now And, and I carry his guitar And I can't recall it lightly at all But I know I'm going in Too much for me to pick up, no Not sure what forgiveness is We've galvanised the squall of it all I can leave behind the harbour To walk aside your favour I'm an Actuary King I'll keep in a cave, your comfort and all Unburdened and becoming