One day baby, we'll be old. Oh baby, we'll be old. And think of all the stories that we could have told. . One day baby, we'll be old. Oh baby, we'll be old.
One day baby, we'll be old. Oh baby, we'll be old. And think of all the stories that we could have told. . One day baby, we'll be old. Oh baby, we'll be old.
One day baby, we'll be old. Oh baby, we'll be old. And think of all the stories that we could have told. . One day baby, we'll be old. Oh baby, we'll be old.
Long are the days when you're turning away. From the reasons you strung. Long is the way, when you're aching to say. But your teeth bite your tongue. .
My life is like a wound. I scratch so I can bleed. Regurgitate my words. I write so I can feed. And death grows like a tree. That's planted in my chest.