الكلمات الأصلية
ENالترجمة غير متاحة بعد. نعرض الكلمات الأصلية.
Lord let's get the hell out of this rut
Or solace will surely never come
Exclaim sweep discarded words away
Prophetic they never were
As the crow flies
We'll walk into the gale
The spring in my step
Is the taste that you make
My chaperone
My advocate
My cloaking device
I could use your advice
Cos I don't need proof
While ever there's you
Gravity fails and
There's wind in these sails
