Sarah Slean-High I Always wonder why your eye close Don't you want to see me closing mine? Heaven help me I'll devour him See me drawing out his spine
I hear them coming The blue parade They're throwing snowflakes and Singing my name In deep blue voices I hear them say, There's good love out there Just
I hear them coming the blue parade they're throwing snowflakes and singing my name in deep blue voices I hear them say There's good love out there
Fordítás: Sarah Slean. Magas {a "kék Parade"}.
Fordítás: Sarah Slean. Kék Parade.
Innocent Sunday Morning As Plain as the Sunday before I thought as she told me her story I don?t think I can hear these anymore Charting a map of land
Who wants a genius anyway Who worries if he's had enough sleep? I'd take the bad news anyday If it meant you were mine to keep Sweet is the certified
Awake soon The mindstorm I feel I feel the stars out The fear goes I soar now As far as I can carry you As deep as deep No thief can take away from you
Think I should take up smoking Maybe even cigars Think I should be leaving now I don?t know who you are Have I a reason? Am I a liar? Am I poison? Am
Madeleine Shall her story end? With this aftermath music, My broken French? Heal her, if you can Pray the lions aren?t waiting Take her hand I want
Look at you Broken bird Narcolepsy weed Highway-side Like a puppet cat You can?t wake I can?t sleep And now they?ve got you Stealing cars and chasing
turns toward the band I have no missionary zeal I say No armies fighting sin But I?ll keep playing, I?ll keep playing Until I win I always loved the blues
You are what they call the human season You are all the alphabet in one You are every colour of confusion You are all the silence I've become Love me
Armies and ice and dirty green Newspapers shovels sand on the breeze I think of Eliot when I smell the street And it?s sometimes wise just to shut your
Always wondered why your eyes closed Don't you want to see me closing mine? Heaven, help me, I'll devour him See me drawing out his spine Hey, boy,
Hey Mister Paper Better get your story straight We're not from the sixties And it's Sarah with an h And, oh, sometimes The way you read things The way
: I hear them coming the blue parade they're throwing snowflakes and singing my name in deep blue voices I hear them say There's good love out
