lunes, 10 de noviembre de 2008

Red wine and sleeping pills
Help me get back to your arms

Cheap sex and sad films
Help me get back where I belong

I think youre crazy, maybe

I think youre crazy, maybe

Stop sending letters
Letters always get burned

Its not like the movies
They fed us on little white lies

I think youre crazy, maybe


I think youre crazy, maybe


I will see you in the next life