Deffrwch Cymry cysglyd y gân. dwfn yw'r gwendid. bychan yw y fflam. Creulon yw'r cynhaef. ond per yw'r dôn. 'Da' alaw'r alarch unig. yn fy mron. Every day when I wake up.
I put horses' heads in people's beds. 'Cause I am the mob. When duty calls gonna bust some balls. 'Cause I am the mob. . Don't try and tell me it's not one for the money.
A dead loss, no songs, no fun, just glum. Lying next to someone. So don't mention the war, don't question. Where we stand or where we fall. . North, south, east where's best?.
You know the time to act is now, do do do. Before the sands of time run out, do do do. I know that I could never. Fall from grace, I'm far too clever.
Well, it's a most peculiar feeling, like sunburn in the evening. With dark clouds on their way. And you think it's most unlikely life could ever shine as brightly.
I'm andy cole's tortured soul lost out again in front of goal. I wish I had your cocaine confidence. Some girls are easier on the eye but could you take the silent lives.
The sun is shinin'. We should be makin' hay. But we're dead from the waist down. Like in California. . Victory is empty. There are lessons in defeat. But we're dead from the waist down.
The sun is shinin'. We should be makin' hay. But we're dead from the waist down. Like in California. . Victory is empty. There are lessons in defeat. But we're dead from the waist down.
I've got my work cut out with you. You tore bits out of me. Your carpet burns and bruises blue. Are there for all to see. . But I can tell you've been through hell.
I thought we'd escape. I packed a fishin' line and counted on it. I thought we'd escape. I packed a fishin' line and counted on it. . But dreamin' is for moon rise.
I swear at you for leaving. Like I cursed at you when you stayed. And I'll run you out. Pass you round. Scrape you about. Fade you out. Running good rings around you.
O, fraudulent mirror, oh, rank rainbow toad. I'd break apart too, if I knowed what you knowed. I'd fall from the wall, I'd leap from the road. You take cover in the clover, you don't shoulder the load.
In the chest of a dealer hammers. And smelts a foul charge. As he smoothes sour cream from his moll's pony. And metes her an unholy barrage. (O, the living is hard).
Level your fretting.. I won't be forgetting. The flush of your face. When I lifted you level. To me and a wattle tree. Framed your body. . In whispers welling with.
They married, a dandy and a back alley tough. On the foreshore while kids in the needling rough. Stayed low, in and laid till they'd had enough. Of the somersaulting hot roll of revolting September.