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