Тут найдется любой текст песни: Исполнитель: Matrioska
Песня: La Partita Di Pallone
Добавил: Гость
Matrioska – La Partita Di Pallone 0
Johnny wanna be a big star
Get on stage and play the guitar Make a little money, buy a fancy car Big old house and an alligator Just to match with them alligator shoes He's a rich man so he's no longer singing the blues He's singing songs about material things And platinum rings and watches that go bling But, diamonds don't bling in the dark He a star now, but he ain't singing from the heart Sooner or later he's just gonna fall apart Coz his fans can't relate to his new found art He ain't doing what he did from the start And that's putting in some feeling and thought He decided to live his life shallow Passion is love for material And its gone... gone... going... Gone... everything gone... give a damn... Gone be the birds when they don't want to sing... Gone people... up awkward with their things... gone. You see yourself in the mirror And you feel safe coz it looks familiar But you afraid to open up your soul Coz you don't really know, don't really know Who is, the person that's deep within Coz you are content with just being the naive brown man And you fail to see that its trivial Insignificant, you addicted to material I've seen your kind before Your the type that thinks souls is sold in a store Packaged up with inscent sticks With them vegetarian meals To you that's righteous You're fiction like books You need to go out to life and look Coz... what happens when they take your material You already sold your soul and its... You say that time is money and money is time So you got mind in your money and your money on your mind But what about... that crime that you did to get paid And what about... that bid, you can't take it to your brain Why you on about those shoes you'll wear today They'll do no good on the bridges you've walked along the way All that money that you got gonna be gone That gear that you rock gonna be gone The house up on the hill gonna be gone The gold -- on your grill gonna be gone The ice on your wrist gonna be gone That nice little Miss gonna be gone That whip that you roll gonna be gone And what's worst is your soul will be gone |
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