54-40

54-40 - Sound Of Truth lyrics

Your rating:
Some kind of order is what we're after
The sound of truth doesn't matter any more,
happy poor
There is a trick some kind of lure
No means of knowing sure anymore,
happy poor

There's only me and some of you
Everyday we lose a few planned phrases
that keep us cool
A pair of friends we have to eat
You and I will always be chasing
a carrot with bloody feet

I'm sick and tired of all the people
Don't you know there are no equals anywhere,
never were
Stop think for a second
Don't ask dumb questions anymore,
happy poor
Get this song at:
bol.com
amazon.com

Copyrights:

Author: ?

Composer: ?

Publisher: ?

Details:

Language: English

Share your thoughts

This form is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.

0 Comments found