I wanna chew my bubble gum with you. And I want to walk you home from school. And I want to carry your books to every class. And I want to fuck you up
Well I wanna chwe my bubble gum with you. And I wanna walk you home from school. And I wanna carry your books to every class. And I wanna fuck you up
Lord, take this makeup of off of me. I said, "lordy, lordy, lordy, take this makeup offa me." It's bad enough on the beach, But it's worse in
Well, thank you, mr. jitters. Thank you, mister jitters. The official soviet newspaper said, the temple members have protested the mindless arms waste
- "just a minute! I'm just getting my jyamas I'd just want to leave you with this message. They say that the best things in life are free, except
I wanna chew my bubble gum with you. And I wanna walk you home from school. And I wanna carry your books to every class. And I wanna fuck you up the ass
Well they say... "Hey we like your look But we don't want you plugged it." They say "We'll put you on the shelves because we like your smiling face" This
ترجمة: يوكو أونو. هجاء # 1.
If my head could start the argument. You know it would. Never good at accepting compliments. That all compliments of me. Let's go where it might be
I know this guy with an agenda to his name. He calls himself my friend, but I don't want to know him. He'll be the first to step on my wounded knee.
I'm locking all the doors. I'm busting up the mirrors. Reflection is a dirty thing. It seems that's all too obvious. I didn't dim the lights enough
Forty miles from the city. Sitting in traffic isn't fun. Crucifix stabbed in soil, to a father from a son. There's ghosts on the highway. I claim.
How can I make this a metaphor for how you spit on this, For how you make me feel. Your 'sorry' gives as much as 'sorry' gets. The riff is in. The
Hey Mr. Postman, quit bringing me lemons. There's far more than I can use. They're tumbling out of my closet. Rolling from under my bed. When I'm running
Late night creepin's got me tangled up in secrets I don't like. I'm not the type for the white belt red tie life. It's something that I never tried.
thinnest ice you'd never seen on earth. If it wasn't for supporting hands, I'd be falling through the cracks again. But one thing sure hasn't changed. Once satire
I'm up here in my bedroom. I'm never coming out. I've got some rearranging that I've got to figure out. Maybe it's the computer, maybe it's the TV.
Twenty-nine years into life. Some things, I still can get right. Priorities may never be straight. That's always a topic for debate. I've made up my