Motherfucker What's going on in my head? Racing round, I'm left for dead Coming round, losing heart Making love then it starts Got to get away from
Motherfucker! What's going on in my head, It's racing around, I'm left for dead, Coming round, Losing heart, Making love, Then it starts, Got to get away
Übersetzung: Ash. Melon Farmer.
Motherfucker! What's going on in my head, It's racing around, I'm left for dead, Coming round, Losing heart, Making love, Then it starts, Got to get
1, 2, 3, 4 you bought me some chocolates. and you bought me a rose. and you brought me a paper bag. and you brought me a lamp. thank you for the chocolates
red red, red everywhere bright red all along the thin canvas wall i stepped outside, for a little air i stepped outside to get away from it all i went
i'm coming in. try to stop me. push furniture in front of the door. it only gives me something to push against. in the full heat of the summer's day,
black mollies in the aquarium, darting back and forth as though an earthquake were certain and I, turned up the heater and I ripped off my shirt
the pictures that you paint aren't as pretty as they once seemed to me and the coffee's bitter because it's been boiling too long and the jokes you tell
somewhere in the damn forest... where the fat pines look like my brother's arms, thick and ripe i'm trying to get out for days and these green vines
the ocean wind cold on our lips, the wild fern growing, sinking ships, all the signs are easy to read. in the morning you come my way, your skin is
we both know you're leaving you just don't want to say it yet 'cause you don't want to hurt my feelings so you gnaw your little holes in the net and
spoken: ...the sargeant drop to the ground in the shadow of a low branch they heard a branch crack to the left then the sound of footsteps two of the
big birds in the trees cars locked and i've lost my keys crashing sounds of the waterfall and a statue of jesus 200 feet tall 3000 miles from the north
there was rain there was wind there was spring coming in there was a feeling of approaching doom and i was happy to see you it was cold in your room
the waves were beating against the shore the waves were beating as if they hadn't before the dock was soaking the wood was wet your hair blew madly i
[john spoken] hi, it's the mountain goats it's the seventeenth of december at nine thirty four in the morning and this is called no, i can't. you bought
the glowing world, the bench backed up against the house the chicken coops the darkness surrounding everything it was late and the night was moving slowly