. Paint the words upon the wall. This is the pulse of fools like you. Who sound so red and turn so blue. The sound of uselessness in slumber. War is over if you want. See the dancer's semen reeling
much happier now that she has taken my place,. . Chorus. Come take my pulse to see how much I care,. You won’t get a rise out of me anywhere,. You blew our love like smoke into the air,. But I
roots. There ain't no turning back. We pon de culture track Some a seh that we gone soft. Whatever happened to the pulse so hard. They use to take a militant stance. Now all we're hearing is a song
