Step back inside the lie again You'll find you're wearing thin Killing the sympathy as you take another Swing at me now Fighting your inner self again
Don't expect too much from my poor old heart You can blame the unforgiving for my scars You might just be the best that I can find But I can't seem to
In a bar Johnny drinks Johnny drinks Johnnie Walker Runs up a bill he can't pay He's drinking to the memory Of a prince in a paupers grave And it's go
No tengo mucha plata pero tengo cobre, aqui se baila como bailan los pobres. No tengo mucha plata pero tengo cobre, aqui se baila como bailan los pobres
(Joe Ely) Drivin' to the Poorhouse in a Limosine Livin' on soda-pop and nicotine Brushin' off the glitter from a 2nd-Hand suit. Lookin' for a Marks-
Well I don't know the reason It came from nowhere But this street just got paved with gold Well I kicked my gong Right out of there Now I'm sitting on
step back, this drop in position is hitting hard deadline, this week's lost its meaning been going on for a while push hard, focus inconsistent regresss
What could I do but what You ask me to do? And where could I go but where You want me to go? How could I live but by the truth You know? How could I
Al Club di Anna Maria non ti stanchi mai di stare allegro in buona compagnia se non ci sei mai stato e meglio che ci vai si trova dalle parti di Bahia
La stazione e' dietro me e' qui la tua citta' io chiedo a tanta gente di te non si sa niente giro un po' di qua e di la' ma non vedo piu' le luci della
Sulle labbra il tuo sapore dentro gli occhi il tuo colore il tuo senso nelle mani che faro fino a domani Oggi ti ho aspettata non ti aspetto piu sola
Der Arme ist nicht arm So steht es geschrieben Mm, der Schwache ist nicht schwach Er muss nicht unterliegen Mm, nur wenn du das vergisst Kann es sein
Alle volte mi ritrovo con la testa tra le mani e penso di essere diventato pazzo mi dico cazzo! non e reale qua mi devo calmare eh gia, devo stare calmo
Why can't I be like all the other kids? They all have three-bedroom homes Broken trucks on their lawns And cut-up hot dogs for lunch It's not my fault
You and me, friend We sure get along We got the same feelings Yeah, we got the same thoughts I remember last August You wrote me that letter At first
Well I was raised by Papa Misery and Mama Guitar I never had no Place to call home Except for the woods behind the pond In the backwoods In the backwoods
Translation: Carter The Unstoppable Sex Machine. A Prince In A Pauper's Grave.
