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T
letras de
The Matches
SCRATCHED OUT
0 opinión
Letra y Significado de
SCRATCHED OUT,
The Matches
Significados y Opiniones (
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Letra
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Envia tu opinión de SCRATCHED OUT
Envia tu opinión de SCRATCHED OUT
Wake up and waste a day
chase away
a day at a time
and waste away
clean-faced today
clean taste today
toothpaste makes my
orange juice sour
waste an hour
or so
my shower
is slow
the flowers
that grow
outside of my window
are blooming
i'm assuming
that you're comin' over soon
it's almost half past four
and you called here at noon
'cause there's a picture
that you wanna see
now i'm not even good at
being me
anymore.
She got nicotine-basted
lungs
wasted thumbs
and one of them asphalt
tastin' tongues
she wakes up
to alarm
her make-up
is still on
and she can't remember
why she set the damn thing
her heart is a machine
art is meant to be seen
not felt
not heard
it's just paint
they're just words
and fingers are for feeling
fists are for beating
scabs are for healing
and blood is for bleeding
that's just how
i used to be
but i'm not even good at
being me
anymore.
I wake up and waste an hour
pace and glower
at the tv set wasting power
and aching in my head
i'm banking in the red
and compulsively charging cd's to my account
so come out
jenny
it's getting late
you jersey girls like to make boys wait
now it's too late
in the day
for a matinee
and i ain't got the
money to pay
for you anyway
what should i say?
i know it ain't how it
used to be
but i'm not good
at being me
anymore.
Corregir Letra
Corregir Letra
Wake up and waste a day chase away a day at a time and waste away clean-faced today clean taste today toothpaste makes my orange juice sour waste an hour or so my shower is slow the flowers that grow outside of my window are blooming i'm assuming that you're comin' over soon it's almost half past four and you called here at noon 'cause there's a picture that you wanna see now i'm not even good at being me anymore. She got nicotine-basted lungs wasted thumbs and one of them asphalt tastin' tongues she wakes up to alarm her make-up is still on and she can't remember why she set the damn thing her heart is a machine art is meant to be seen not felt not heard it's just paint they're just words and fingers are for feeling fists are for beating scabs are for healing and blood is for bleeding that's just how i used to be but i'm not even good at being me anymore. I wake up and waste an hour pace and glower at the tv set wasting power and aching in my head i'm banking in the red and compulsively charging cd's to my account so come out jenny it's getting late you jersey girls like to make boys wait now it's too late in the day for a matinee and i ain't got the money to pay for you anyway what should i say? i know it ain't how it used to be but i'm not good at being me anymore.
Enviar Letra
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