SOUR TIMES - PORTISHEAD
To pretend and one can find,
Fantasies and moring rose,
Forbidden fruit, hidden lies,
Curtosies that I dispise in me.
Take a ride, take a shot now,
Coz nobody loves me, its true, not like you do.
Covered by the blind belief,
That fantasies of sinful screams,
Bare the facts, {are soon} to die,
In the bowels no need to lie in chain.
Coz nobody loves me, its true, not like you do.
[Am I what and why,]
Coz all I have left is the memories of yesterday,
Oh the sour times
Coz nobody loves me, its true, not like you do.
After time the bitter taste,
Of [ ] , descent or race,
Scattered seed, buried lives,
Histories of our disguise reborn,
Circumstance will decide.
Coz nobody loves me, its true, not like you do. * |
