Done feeding, I leaned back, head rested on the couch's top
Must leave the house soon, mean gone, 'cause my pops, he's hot
Grab my blue backpack, my Walkman, grip my bicycle
'Cause I know my friends are waiting at the door
I'm feeling loose like you, just fuckin' around and shit
'Til that comes, you're fifty-five or twenty-six
Let me go
I give more
And you know I'm flown
Come at me, come, come
My fingers don't cross, but they crack
You know I want to pick you up
But they don't want you to
Asking for it, like we got
Yes, we cross, but we crack
You know I want to pick you up
But they don't want you, so fuck 'em
You let them screw you, I thought they knew you
But when you turned your back, I know they're gonna do
You had to prove me right and then we did
And that son of a bitch, he swerved, almost hit two kids
I'm feeling heartless, I'm feeling hate
So when there's nothing but the real swing in her fucking rape
No one
Me
(No choice)
Let me go
I get bored
And you know I'm fucking flown
Come on, come, come
My fingers don't cross, but they crack
You know I want to pick you up
But they don't want you to
Let me go, like we got
Yeah, we cross, but we crack
You know I want to pick you up
But they don't want you, burn
Let me go
I give more
And you know, oh
So good, we could
And we learned to cry
And lift me up
Come on, come
My fingers don't cross, but they crack
You know I want to pick you up
But they don't want you
Let me go, like we got
Yeah, we cross, but we crack
You know I want to pick you up
But they don't want you
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
