Pedro Pereira @ 00:00

Sab, 23/01/10

The moon is not quite bright
And the time is not quite now
Your lips are close to mine
I'm leaving, I'm leaving, I'm leaving, I'm...

Our brains are not quite full
So stuffed with half-thought thoughts
Math problems still to solve and
I'm leaving, I'm leaving, I'm leaving, I'm...

Why don't we move ourselves up the road?
I don't know which turn was wrong
But the roughest roads are the ones that take us home
Why don't we lay peacefully at night?
I can't count the minutes we've lain here
Something ain't right
Something ain't right
Something ain't right
Something ain't, no it ain't, ain't
Something ain't right

Look back at what's behind us
Left home with eyes ahead
The colors run together
They're bleeding
They're bleeding
They're bleeding

Why don't we move ourselves up the road?
I don't know which turn was wrong
But the roughest roads are the ones that take us home
Why don't we lay peacefully at night?
I can't count the minutes we've lain here
Something ain't right
Something ain't right
Something ain't right
Something ain't, no it ain't, ain't
Something ain't right

Something ain't right
Something ain't right
Something ain't right
Something ain't, something right
Something ain't, something
I'm leaving, I'm leaving, I'm leaving, I'm...
Something, I'm
Leaving, I'm
Something, I'm
Leaving, I'm

Something ain't right
I'm leaving, I'm
Something ain't right
I'm leaving, I'm

Something ain't right
I'm leaving, I'm
Something ain't right
I'm leaving, I'm


 



“A música exprime a mais alta filosofia numa linguagem que a razão não compreende” Arthur Schopenhauer
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