Your native language

عربي

Arabic

عربي

简体中文

Chinese

简体中文

Nederlands

Dutch

Nederlands

Français

French

Français

Deutsch

German

Deutsch

Italiano

Italian

Italiano

日本語

Japanese

日本語

한국인

Korean

한국인

Polski

Polish

Polski

Português

Portuguese

Português

Română

Romanian

Română

Русский

Russian

Русский

Español

Spanish

Español

Türk

Turkish

Türk

Українська

Ukrainian

Українська
User Avatar

Suono


Interfaccia


Livello di difficoltà


Accento



linguaggio dell'interfaccia

it

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Gestione dei Cookie   |   Supporto   |   FAQ
1
registrati/accedi
Lyrkit

donare

5$

Lyrkit

donare

10$

Lyrkit

donare

20$

Lyrkit

E/o supportarmi sui social. reti:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
The Format

Threes

 

Threes

(album: B-Sides & Rarities - 2007)


Eliza's in the elevator
Finding words that rhyme with "sunny"
I think it's funny how she just leaves "funny" out
And me, I'm on my way downstairs
Gonna gaze and wander aimlessly
I'm gonna figure out what Manhattan's all about
And how I wish it would rain tonight
I'd find a good excuse to stay inside
And watch those props come tumbling through the air
'Cause it's been the worst year of my life
I don't wanna live, I don't wanna die
So could you please, could you please, could you please
Grow out you hair?

William plays harmonica and guitar
By the side of the sidewalk
I'd love to stay and steal his melody
'Cause he hasn't got an answer to force
No one cares about his voice, no
No, not a choice
Sometimes I wish that nobody loved me
And now I wish I could stab my throat
There goes your wife, your car, your home
There goes the life I've convinced myself I wanna own
And Becca you could come back to my clothes
The only note I'll hold is the one you fold
Could you please, oh could you please, oh could you please
Grow out your hair?

Grow it dark and long like the winter
With no split ends, split ends are like friends
I don't need them
And if you've got older friends
Then I suggest you listen to them
Cause they're all I want, the world, the fallen hope
All the prophets on the green grass, they're all in the window
Yeah, my life is just like religion
I'm making it up as I go, oh, oh, oh.

Well they say all bad things come in threes
Well the last year has made the last three look so easy
You were supposed to keep the disease between you and me
So bandage up your wrists, throw away your prescriptions, and
And baby come back to me, yeah

My legs gave in on Forty-Second,
Lord, I think it's a hint...

Fatto

Hai aggiunto tutte le parole sconosciute di questa canzone?