Stai ca trag...

In tine cu o melodie de la Bitalsi, pentru zilele mai psihedelice, cu contururi laptoase si culori nenumarate de te ametesc.
Si da, I'm not a girl who misses much. I am a girl who misses immensely, monstruosly.

Fericirea e-un pistol caldut

Mostra de versuri:

She's well acquainted with the touch of the velvet hand like a lizard on a window pane.
The man in the crowd with the multi-colored mirrors on his hobnail boots.
Lying with his eyes while his hands are busy working overtime.
A soap impression of his wife which he ate and donated to the National Trust.
I need a fix 'cause I'm going down
down to the bits that I left uptown
I need a fix 'cause I'm going down

Mother Superior jump the gun....
[...]

Happiness is a warm gun (bang bang shoot shoot)
Happiness is a warm gun, mama (bang bang shoot shoot)
When I hold you in my arms (oh, yeah)
And I feel my finger on your trigger (oh, yeah)
I know nobody can do me no harm (oh, yeah)
Because, (happiness) is a warm gun, mama (bang bang shoot shoot)
Happiness is a warm gun, yes it is (bang bang shoot shoot)



Cum se invarte Marietta prin camera: