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

Ses


Arayüz


Zorluk seviyesi


Aksan



arayüz dili

tr

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Çerez politikası   |   Destek   |   FAQ
1
Kayıt Giriş
Lyrkit

bağış yapmak

5$

Lyrkit

bağış yapmak

10$

Lyrkit

bağış yapmak

20$

Lyrkit

Ve/veya beni sosyal medyada destekleyin. ağlar:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Of Montreal

Hmmm

 

Hmmm

(albüm: Freewave Lucifer f<ck f^ck f>ck - 2022)


Grief is an anvil to the skull
Grief has an echo that lives in silences
Inside of silences
Grief is the black ink that rushes to fill in the void she left

When nothing is okay
You knowing that you're not alone only makes it feel sadder

Loss is an evil light
That takes root behind your eyes
Illuminating what you're not ready to see
And won't let you turn away
And won't let you un-hear the venom that it has to say

When everything is fucked
You knowing that you're not alone only makes it even sadder

When everything is fucked
You knowing that you're not alone only makes it even sadder

Slumping in alleys swallowing voices cruise shaped war windows
No one's happy here we think too much of ourselves yet
It's still not enough, you're having a plot twist
I send an asylum of good luck

Ergo we're equals is easily a mess to unwound
A changing line positing a question
Hex to impress some Rude Boy
Thomas once famously said
"The novel of bullshit is dead"
Though all the people can't be all dog, all the time
He wants you to know he's joking even when he isn't

The cat-o-nine detects avant-garde
Properly possess the shape
The hokey psychos in cardigans
I'll only get to heaven if I'm written in (that's your line)
No musicians to play (pay)
Guitars refuse the work
The flanger is in flames
The best shit is apropos of nothing so

Ergo we're equals is easily a mess to unwound
A changing line positing a question
Hex to impress some Rude Boy
Thomas once famously said
"The novel of bullshit is dead"
Though all the people can't be all dog, all the time
He wants you to know he's joking even when he isn't

Tamamlandı

Bu şarkıdaki tüm yabancı kelimeleri eklediniz mi?