Текст песни Rooftop Gambler - Pavement

Rooftop Gambler

Bad Brains drop,\nThey rip you like a Sunday paper.\nGlass clear,\nHold me like a suicide ranger in his lair,\nA suicide ranger,\nUh, uh, ah.\nDown on saint Kit’s and I was lost in a haze of\nTax shelters and Mardi Gras and polluted bays, but\nMy Cadillac mind recalls a time that you walked around an island forty times\nWho whispers from the natives in their two paying cars.\nAngel got to see where you hide,\nShe might know when you die.\nThere’s no place to get up,\nFrom the rooftop gambler.\nA weekends Costa Rica with ocho chicas\nAnd the bars are never closes when you got the frozen noses\nOf Jeff and it is the soundtrack I’ve go to get a heart attack,\nWorking hard.\nHours and the feelings down on your kneeling.\nWhisper to the truths and when they come their going to hide you around\nThere going to show me to hide\nLike a rooftop gambler.\nRooftop Gambler Sözleri, AkorMerkezi.com'da yayınlanmıştır.