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letras de
Say Anything
A CERTAIN TYPE OF GENIUS
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Letra y Significado de
A CERTAIN TYPE OF GENIUS,
Say Anything
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Letra
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Envia tu opinión de A CERTAIN TYPE OF GENIUS
Envia tu opinión de A CERTAIN TYPE OF GENIUS
There is a certain type of genius
who is proud to know so much
he skipped a thousand showers
cause he doesn't need to touch
he hides his bastard faces
behind thick panes of glass
they're all that seperates him
from the apish lower class
and the stench of love keeps sneaking up his nose
through all the snot his sinuses can hold
believing all the lies that he's been told
grows old, so old
a friday night alone with friends
he's got but one or two
they're geniuses like him, you see
nothing like all of you
they banter and they languish
with all ostentatious plea
they're all so trendy and which
they're underground machines
and he wont be there when jesus comes around
he'll write a book on what his studies found
and deep inside he'll learn to fear the sound
of hope, of hope
he says why should i even try
i will let the oil soak in my face
until the pimples shine
like tiny mountains set in place
this lonely valley, mine
between the hills of opulence
they grow with strength and time
scarlet clusters spring from skin
to hide my missing spots
and he wont be there when jesus comes around
he'll write a book on what his studies found
And deep inside he'll want to hear the sound
of hope, of hope
when the world stabs you in the back
the worst thing you could do
is become indifferent to
there is no 'they'
no idiot brigade
only a thousand yous
equally as bruised
Corregir Letra
Corregir Letra
There is a certain type of genius who is proud to know so much he skipped a thousand showers cause he doesn't need to touch he hides his bastard faces behind thick panes of glass they're all that seperates him from the apish lower class and the stench of love keeps sneaking up his nose through all the snot his sinuses can hold believing all the lies that he's been told grows old, so old a friday night alone with friends he's got but one or two they're geniuses like him, you see nothing like all of you they banter and they languish with all ostentatious plea they're all so trendy and which they're underground machines and he wont be there when jesus comes around he'll write a book on what his studies found and deep inside he'll learn to fear the sound of hope, of hope he says why should i even try i will let the oil soak in my face until the pimples shine like tiny mountains set in place this lonely valley, mine between the hills of opulence they grow with strength and time scarlet clusters spring from skin to hide my missing spots and he wont be there when jesus comes around he'll write a book on what his studies found And deep inside he'll want to hear the sound of hope, of hope when the world stabs you in the back the worst thing you could do is become indifferent to there is no 'they' no idiot brigade only a thousand yous equally as bruised
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