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exibições de letras 3.691

I told althea I was feeling lost
Lacking in some direction
Althea told me upon scrutiny
My back might need protection

I told althea that treachery
Was tearin me limb from limb
Althea told me: Now cool down boy
Settle back easy jim

You may be Saturday's child all grown
Moving with a pinch of grace
You may be a clown in the burying ground
Or just another pretty face
You may be the fate of ophelia
Sleeping and perchance to dream
Honest to the point of recklessness
Self centered to the extreme

Ain't nobody messin with you but you
Your friends are getting most concerned
Loose with the truth
Maybe it's your fire
But baby don't get burned
When the smoke has cleared, she said
That's what she said to me
You're gonna want a bed to lay your head
And a little sympathy

There are things you can replace
And others you cannot
The time has come to weigh those things
This space is getting hot -
You know this space is getting hot

I told althea
I'm a roving sign
That I was born to be a bachelor
Althea told me: Ok that's fine
So now I'm out trying to catch her

Can't talk to me without talking to you
We're guilty of the same old thing
Talking a lot about less and less
And forgetting the love we bring

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Composição: Félix Leclerc / Robert Hunter. Essa informação está errada? Nos avise.
Enviada por Leandro e traduzida por Hithuan. Revisão por Gabriel. Viu algum erro? Envie uma revisão.


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