|
And the little boy stared,
Into the eyes of the night,
Button collects price of his time,
Little girl glared,
Sheets of denial,
Bullet connects to the price of her crime.
What have we said,
Wasn't it their bed,
What of presence,
Haven't we paid penance,
For the new guns.
Now the little boy sees,
Through the eyes of delight,
Levers erect note of his rhyme,
Little girl bled,
Sheets of the night,
Lovers connect to the price of his dime.
What have we said,
Wasn't it their bed,
What of our presence,
haven't we paid penance,
(To the old gods and moved on),
(To the old gods and moved on),
(To the old gods and moved on),
To the new guns, to the new guns.
What have we said,
Wasn't it their bed,
What of our presence,
haven't we paid penance,
What have we said,
Wasn't it their bed,
What of our presence,
haven't we paid penance,
(To the old gods and moved on),
(To the old gods and moved on),
(To the old gods and moved on),
To the new guns, to the new guns. |
English |
Romanian |
Russian
Economy
Politics
Society
Sport
IT
WEB directory
Music
Auto
Newsletter
My.Moldova.org
Weather
Horoscope
Exchange Rate
Recipes
Documents
Pop
Hip-Hop
Soul
Indie
Vocal
Rap
Celtic
Latin
R&B
Grunge
Instrumental
Rock
Punk Rock
House
Trance
Metal
Disco
Electronic
Dance
Synthpop
Country
Folk
Heavy Metal