Would you stand up for this kind of beauty?
Cause this kind of beauty won't stand up for you.
It won't lift a finger
for some lazy dreamer.
Here it comes the average dirty word,
pardon my French
But I'm sitting on an park bench,
watching yearning cats
milk-fed little brats.
And they say:
Love won't pick
the slanted or the slick
or the lovesick,
and I'm lovesick.
So I say
F-word, f-word
pardon my French
but it's bs, bs
can't you feel the stench?
F-word, f-word
pardon my French
but it's bs, bs.
Summer evening,
cats are screaming
for love.
Is summer evening,
the cats screaming
for love.
So I say
F-word, f-word
pardon my French
but it's bs, bs
can't you feel the stench?
F-word, f-word
pardon my French
but it's bs, bs
can't you feel the stench?
F-word, f-word
pardon my French
but it's bs, bs
can't you feel the stench?
F-word, f-word
pardon my French
but it's bs, bs
can't you feel the stench?
F-word, f-word
pardon my French
but it's bs, bs
can't you feel the stench?
F-word, f-word
pardon my French
but it's bs, bs.
Jens Lekman (Oh, You're so silent, Jens) еще тексты
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