Tłumaczenie: Face To Face. Private Hell.
you wanted anyway. The fingers feel the lines - they prod the space - Your ageing face - the face that once was so beautiful, is still there but unrecognizable - Private Hell
wanted anyway. The fingers feel the lines - they prod the space - Your ageing face - the face that once was so beautiful, is still there but unrecognizable - Private Hell
Lately I've been hard to reach I've been too long on my own Everybody has their private world Where they can be alone Are you calling me? Are you trying
] (Birdman) Give me my tool Die for my goons Cooked up the food Got the ice for the jewels Bullshit or hustle, money mothafucka Buyin' yo self Private
keep cool They snitchin' on a snitch now, it's nothin' to tell Nowadays, your circles should be small as hell Ain't tryin' to meet new faces, this don
it was you wanted anyway The fingers feel the lines they prod the space Your aging face the face that once was so beautiful Is still there but unrecognizable, private hell
got the gator ray swipe i be like "is it in?" she be "hell yeah daddy" now you wanna taste you gotta lot of cards but chu never rode a face the girl
. I know that now, that's why I'm staying here. Leave the ocean's roar in the turquoise shell. Leave the widower in his private hell. Leave the liberty
somewhere I know that now, that's why I'm staying here Leave the ocean's roar in that turquoise shell Leave the widower in his private hell Leave the
baby Look, be honest, c'mon, don't lie Tell the truth - I'm a hell of a guy, right? Pretty smile, light brown eyes I've got miles on them other guys, face
of rage and love the Jesus of suburbia From the bible of none of the above on a steady diet of Soda pop and Ritalin, no one ever died for my sins in hell
'm in control, I got a bulletproof soul And I'm full of self-esteem I invented myself with no one's help I'm a prototype supreme I sit upon my private
' Crissy Dora got an explorer, Tricy wear Bc Bg Got one in ATL big, fine, thick as hell Got one in BKNY dat only wear DKNY An' Norma Jean in New Orleans One in H-Town wit her face
She may be the face I can't forget A trace of pleasure or regret Maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay She may be the song the summer sings May
my distant sanity Here I'm all alone and still faithfully Holdin on my private misery Why must we live In this drain that we hate Life is hell for the
razor's song, the razor's song Wear the mask another face In your room, in your room City red, city red Wear the mask, wear the mask A private hell,