Meat Wagon - Dead Mihail's face | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Meat Wagon
• Dead Mihail's face

Dead Mihail's face doesn't express anything special.
Anything like my patience.
If used to be any self harm, he was my weirdo.
Something with her in the bed room.
He was my weirdo.
Were any scars on his right arm?
He was my buddo.
Were any scars on his left arm?
He was my weirdo.
How I hoped we tougher would sleep in a bed room durin wet weaweather.
How he cropped by a clipper his ginger hair, his curly hair.
How he refused to be drummer and went nowhere, and jumped to nowhere.
He overcame his last ladder, he was my weirdo.