Belson was a gas I heard the other day In the open graves where the jews all lay Life is fun I wish you were here They wrote on postcards to those held
Do you feel safe, beneath the stares of dim lit lights? Never hearing the numbing whispers, The knowing calls and unknown response. You've got a way with
I?m giving up on the thought of coincidence. It doesn?t seem to suit much anymore. You can change the way you read the lines, But don?t stop. You can
Every piece like you is delicate When puzzles count for more than rhetoric. Your answers, your questions, your half-held head. So we?re taking the time
Late nights and brake lights Are all that we know, And timelines forget the cities they image. There are promises that we should keep And miles to go
I won?t say the words again. Even if I mean to. I think I?d rather leave both our hands Holding mixed opinions, Withholding lungs, and unanswered questions
Do we walk on sand or streets? Its your call. We wont walk much anyway. A storys untold of hands That hold the key to all Thats locked up in you. Lets
We're moving mountains, isn't that enough? We're taking turns at turning backs, And forgoing our love. Distaste Is inevitable, and leaves a bad feeling
Let?s meet where the paved roads end. Make sure that we?re secure. The cold words sit on frost-bitten lips, But words, like knives, should cut through
Traduction: Sex Pistols. Belson était une fois Bortrefflich (Belson était un gaz).
Do you feel safe, beneath the stares of dim lit lights? Never hearing the numbing whispers, The knowing calls and unknown response. You've got a way
