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• Artiste: Brook Pridemore
• Titre: Ash Wednesday
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INCORRECT: avant la mauvaise ligne
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Autrement, nous ne pouvons les corriger pas! Merci pour votre aide.
It's midnight in New Jersey I'm beating steps back to Kennedy The cold wind blows around me But I don't feel a thing: I'm already dead I'm staring at the ceiling Can't keep my head from reeling I feel just like Jim Croce Singing "This is not my home" New York is not my home And I can still feel the lump On the side of my head where, Struck with remorse, I tried to beat myself to death And I can't pick up my guitar Without trying to make you love me again You're a million miles away I burned your picture weeks ago Now every single day's spent cold And boneless, home alone, Waiting by the phone I got a full head every morning, I got a clear head every night My only friends are Heinekens The days are none too bright I been waiting for the light And I can still feel the lump On the side of my head where, Struck with remorse, I tried to beat myself to death And I can't pick up my guitar Without trying to make you love me again I am a man, I am a dreaming man. I am dreaming of not being Kicked to the ground again I am alive, but I am falling down I can't even think of any words That rhyme with falling down It's midnight in New Jersey I'm beating steps back to Kennedy And if you asked me twice I'd say, "This whole goddamn city Can sink into the sea for all I care right now" And I can still feel the lump On the side of my head where, Struck with remorse, I tried to beat myself to death And I can't pick up my guitar Without trying to make me love you again