Instrumenty
Ensembles
Opera
Kompozytorzy
Wykonawcy

Teksty: The Heart Attacks. Summer Of Hate.

Hell it's hot, hot as hell, but the sun couldn't compare to the heat
we felt. Couldn't hold a home, barely hold a friend. Gaining a lil'
just to turn around and lose it again. Oh well, it's rocks through a
window on a Friday night. Rocks up your nose helping me see the night.
Get up to get down, to go geek and get up and go out again. No room
for love. I said none. When you're born with such violent traits...
summer of hate. Summer of Hate, it was the summer of hate, you're much
too late, much too hot to find somethin' to love. Just getting bored,
bored of normal life. Never gonna' leave quiet, always leave with a
fight. Beatin' down boys, spittin' on girls, strength in numbers was
usually the easiest way... summer of hate. Gotta' big black van, with
all the seats taken out. Gotta' few good men, now it's time to go
out. I really don't think you understand it's Friday night. we're gonna
ride tonight. where were you at in the...
The Heart Attacks