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
Kids In Glass Houses

No Better (from "Saturday" single)

 

No Better (from "Saturday" single)


Let me tell you about a four-walled, sleazy, sunk speak-easy
Low below the thieves and streets
Welcoming you into a four floor descent
Where even good boys need rent
Toothpaste for their yellow teeth
Because the days pass quickly, high above me
It's night forever where I dry
And the bar's too busy to get you dizzy
And everybody talks in cries

Because they know no better
When the weather never strikes a conversation here
We're down in Satan's cellar, Satan's cellar
Where they hold the wickedest so dear

Are you scared of what these four walls could say?
If they could speak, would they?
Blow for blow, they'll sell you out
In an Italian accent, laced with intent
Patience is the virtue now
Because the days pass quickly high above me
I'm doomed forever where I sit
And the barmaid's quiz me, please forgive me
For slurring all my alibis, for slurring all my alibis

Because they know no better
When the weather, never strikes a conversation here
We're down in Satan's cellar, Satan's cellar
Where they hold the wickedest so dear

Where they honour and they drink and they fear
Dear, they're not looking for your sympathy here
Where they drink just to drown what's inside
Dear, they swear the destination's the ride

Because they know no better
When the weather never strikes a conversation here
We're down in Satan's cellar, Satan's cellar
Where they hold the wickedest so dear
You know the fortune teller
Reaks of leather he stole your wallet, now he knows your name
Yeah, he's a future seller: not too clever
Cause he worships at the cistern here

Fatto

Hai aggiunto tutte le parole sconosciute di questa canzone?