Текст и слова песни From autumn to ashes – All I Can Taste Is What's Her Name
The tears suspend.
Smiles are not more than (empty love)
Locked doors can keep you alone
Forever paint words (from your lips) in a house that's no longer your home
Take the dreams I know (as my own) and it worsens weekends
Thanks again for my misery. And you run with fake friends
I'm sick of your sad songs and sing alongs.
I kind of like it when things are wrong.
Straight from left end,
They'll shout corrections,
And I'll decline, I'll decline
A source of comfort or some protection
And I'll decline
Smiles are not more than (empty love)
Locked doors can keep you alone
Forever paint words (from your lips) in a house that's no longer your home
Take the dreams I know (as my own) and it worsens weekends
Thanks again for my misery. And you run with fake friends
I'm sick of your sad songs and sing alongs.
I kind of like it when things are wrong.
Straight from left end,
They'll shout corrections,
And I'll decline, I'll decline
A source of comfort or some protection
And I'll decline
In your throat
You will see
Surface relocated
Therapy.
All I taste of today
Is the shame (of) my whore prety
All I know are apologies
Do you feel the shame?
Smiles are not more than (empty love)
Locked doors can keep you alone
Forever paint words (from your lips) in a house that's no longer your home
Take the dreams I know (as my own) and it worsens weekends
Thanks again for my misery. And you run with fake friends
I'm sick of your sad songs and sing alongs.
I kind of like it when things are wrong.
Straight from left end,
They'll shout corrections,
And I'll decline, I'll decline
A source of comfort or some protection
And I'll decline
Smiles are not more than (empty love)
Locked doors can keep you alone
Forever paint words (from your lips) in a house that's no longer your home
Take the dreams I know (as my own) and it worsens weekends
Thanks again for my misery. And you run with fake friends
I'm sick of your sad songs and sing alongs.
I kind of like it when things are wrong.
Straight from left end,
They'll shout corrections,
And I'll decline, I'll decline
A source of comfort or some protection
And I'll decline
In your throat
You will see
Surface relocated
Therapy.
All I taste of today
Is the shame (of) my whore prety
All I know are apologies
Do you feel the shame?
К сожалению, прослушивание недоступно в данный момент
