This is a delicate thing.
This is a delicate thing.
Do
you want me to be yours, to fly again?
Give me one more text message.
A sweeter voice than a nightingale,
But that's not what you're interested in.
And then a photo where you're a crybaby,
Or you'll ask for help.
I've been looking for you for so long,
And I've sharpened these sharp edges.
All the usual, but it's not like that,
It's just that I've become a child of the year.
At night we don't know where to go,
Frankie and Johnny,
an adult child.
I run and don't cling to the rules,
We all come and go to zero.
And people are no longer like ships,
Montmartre, you, she and further.
Angela,
like me, Where will you find someone like me?
Angela,
like me,
Angela,
like me,
Where will you find someone like me?
If
you want me to go, I want you to shut up.
Give me one more text message.
To be the best couple of the two of us.
Angela,
like me, Where will you find someone like me?
Angela,
like me, Where will you find someone like me?
Angela,
like me,
Angela,
like me,