Parties کے بول

Blame it on the weather; I’m not that clever This party isn’t much fun Every ones sarcastic wrap them in plastic You don’t need any one Any one The conversation lingers on the tip of a finger The mechanisms broke His poetry will eat you then digest you There really isn’t much hope Isn’t much hope Well I can see you in my sleep Your cold skin against my cheek makes me weak Put it in ignition making bad decisions She begins to smoke Lights start flashing she’s over reacting This has got to be a joke Be a joke Well I can see you in my sleep Your cold skin agents my cheek makes me weak “You’re making a scene” Every one is clever in this arctic weather This party isn’t much fun