July
Sunday 30 November 2008 photo 1/1
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Every little heartbeat, every little breath
People walk a tight rope on a razor's edge
Carrying their hurt and hatred and weapons
It could be a bomb, or a bullet, or a pen
Or a thought, or a word, or a sentence
There ain't no reason things are this way
It's how they always been and they intend to stay
I don't know why I say the things that I say,
But I say them anyway
People walk a tight rope on a razor's edge
Carrying their hurt and hatred and weapons
It could be a bomb, or a bullet, or a pen
Or a thought, or a word, or a sentence
There ain't no reason things are this way
It's how they always been and they intend to stay
I don't know why I say the things that I say,
But I say them anyway
Annons
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