Instrumenty
Ensembles
Opera
Kompozytorzy
Wykonawcy

Teksty: Lostprophets. The Fake Sound Of Progress. Ode To Summer.

Got to say I am there and
You are for I had our best times
Had it our way, best times
But it's all I count

Sit down, my soul
I told you that my time is out
And I'm falling down, got it all worked out
Now I say to you that you would

But if it ever came down to one day
One day left in a thousand
The last good times of summer
Are the last few minutes of warmth

Remember what it was like to enjoy our time
Before we all go back to school and learn
Before our eyes turn gray again
And we forget what it was ever like to feel awake, to feel awake

So is this why I feel so cold
There's too much panic I've been told
And every time I show, I see the way it used to go
I need to see that every year, not to hear it just so clear, so clear

The nights were so much hotter then
We all hung out and made amends
It's like you can't go back but hearing that just makes me want to
Call my friends, tell them that I'm coming home

Feeling all down, inside
[Incomprehensible]
Feeling all, feeling all
Feeling all, feeling all

The nights were so much hotter then
We all hung out and made amends
It's like you can't go back but knowing that just makes me want to
Call my friends and tell them that I'm coming home

So why don't I face it?
Why can't I face it?
Why don't I face it?
Why don't I face it?