Mal dia para buscar

20 de junio de 2009

Kings of medicine (Placebo)

They're pickin' up pieces of me, / While they're pickin' up pieces of you. / In a bag you will be, before the day is over. / Were you looking for somewhere to be./ Or looking for someone to do. / Stupid me, to believe that I could trust in stupid you. / And on the back of my hand, / Were, directions I could understand./ Now that old buzzard Johnny Walker, /Has gone and ruined all our plans./ Our best-made plans. / Don't leave me here, to cast through time,/ Without a map, or road sign. / Don't leave me here, my guiding light, / 'Cause I, I, wouldn't know where to begin. / I asked the Kings of Medicine./ They're pickin' up pieces of me,/ While they're pickin' up pieces of you. / Lying on ice you will be before the day is over. / It's a case in point baby, / That you never thought it through. / Stupid me, to believe I could depend on stupid you. / And on the tip of my tongue, / Were, words that always came out all wrong./ 'Cause they were drowned in Southern Comfort, / Left to dry-out in the Sun, / The noon-day Sun./ Don't leave me here, to cast through time, / Without a map, or road sign./ Don't leave me here, my guiding light, / 'Cause I, I, wouldn't know where to begin./ I asked the Kings of Medicine, / But it seems that they've lost their powers. / Now all I'm left with is the hour./ Don't leave me here, to cast through time, / Without a map, or road sign. / Don't leave me here, my guiding light, / 'Cause I, I, wouldn't know where to begin. / I asked the Kings of Medicine, / But it seems that they have lost their powers. / Now all I'm left with is the hour.
Don't leave me here, /Don't leave me here, oh no-oh, / I wouldn't know where to begin.

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