Sell the kids for food
Weather changes moods
Spring is here again
Reproductive glands
He's the one who likes all our pretty songs
And he likes to sing along
And he likes to shoot his gun
But he knows not what it means
Knows not what it means
And I say
He's the one who likes all our pretty songs
And he likes to sing along
And he likes to shoot his gun
But he don't know what it means
Don't know what it means
And I say yeah
We can have some more
Nature is a whore
Bruises on the fruit
Tender age in bloom
Sei que algumas pessoas gostam de ler o meu diário. Algumas visitas são regulares, alguns comentadores idém (o que agradeço), outros remetem-se ao silêncio e outros há que são visitas bastante esporádicas ou ocasionais. Mas há uma pergunta que me intriga: será que todos os que me lêem compreendem o que eu quero dizer com cada palavra que escrevo?
He's the one who likes all our pretty songs
And he likes to sing along
And he likes to shoot his gun
But he knows not what it means
Knows not what it means
And I say
He's the one who likes all our pretty songs
And he likes to sing along
And he likes to shoot his gun
But he knows not what it means
Knows not what it means
And I say yeah