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One, two, three, four
to Hudson Yards
It's crowded on the weekdays
From April to May
Parse apart a from an E Train
And it in L.A.
And in rearview
You humming along
To the verse
Of your song
you quote each day with the words all wrong
So me when the world looks bleak
I love you but it's hard to believe
every day we'll start to see
The rest is metamodernity
With agrestic charm
It's humid in the midwest
From June to July
All beneath a pinkish sky from the wildfires
Which mantle the horizon line
From the outset
It's been hard to tell
Why you'd this down
When it all well
So me when the world bleak
I love you but it's hard to believe
With every day we'll start to see
The is metamodernity
to Hudson Yards
It's crowded on the weekdays
From April to May
Parse apart a from an E Train
And it in L.A.
And in rearview
You humming along
To the verse
Of your song
you quote each day with the words all wrong
So me when the world looks bleak
I love you but it's hard to believe
every day we'll start to see
The rest is metamodernity
With agrestic charm
It's humid in the midwest
From June to July
All beneath a pinkish sky from the wildfires
Which mantle the horizon line
From the outset
It's been hard to tell
Why you'd this down
When it all well
So me when the world bleak
I love you but it's hard to believe
With every day we'll start to see
The is metamodernity
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( Traducción Automática )
Con tecnología de Microsoft® Translator
