I'll just keep on lying to you All I give are little clues Maybe one day I'll get through But there is nothing I can do To the end of this song, to the end of this song I only need to say its true Your poor little heart already knew But there is nothing

If heaven ain't a lot like Detroit I don't want to go I'd just a soon stay home If they ain't got no 8 mile Like they do in the D Just send me to hell or Salt Lake City it would be about the same to me It would be about the same to me

Les diamants chez nous sont innombrables Les perles dans nos mers incalculables C’est l’Inde, terre des merveilles.

Oh, it's a long, long while from May to December But the days grow short when you reach September When the autumn weather turns the leaves to flame One hasn't got time for the waiting game Oh, the days dwindle down to a precious few September, November

Baa, baa, black sheep Have you any wool? Yes sir, yes sir Three bags full One for the master One for the dame And one for the little boy Who lives down the lane Three bags full.

And nobody knows it but me. I should have been chasing you, That you were all that mattered to me, That I kept inside of me and maybe, That what we had was all we ever need. I should have been trying to prove, I should have said all the things, I could

Clap your hands now Liquid spirit And fill your water tank Go ‘head and clap your hands now Un re-route the rivers Let the dammed water be There’s some people down the way that’s thirsty Watch what happens when the people catch wind Dip down and take a

E desse jeito, então, desce Mexe, me enlouquece Eu não vou pedir pra parar Só você, toda sexy Corpo quente na febre A gente sabe onde isso vai dar Vai dar bom eu e você Sem ter hora pra parar Fica até o amanhecer

I got guns in my head and they won't go Spirits in my head and they won't go But the gun still rattles The gun still rattles, oh And I don't want a never ending life I just want to be alive while I'm here Spirits in my head and they won't I been looking

Shoppin' spree for fun, she dig Saint Laurent (uh) Alexander, Laurent (yah), private flight to Milan ('Lan) Ice VV's (ice, ice), ice VS1's (VS) Off-White Vlone 1's, foreigns parked on my lawn Them 40's come we jump, I like my bitches blonde Wockhardt