Lyrics:
That is the sound of a
Very short cymbal it's a
Finger cymbal it's something that's normally
Worn on the finger, and another one is
Worn on the thumb
to the grade in the evening
They take the chill away fine.
Cut the telephone line and the story's the same.
There's a worn red chair by the window
That we found
on anytime we passed off
These niggas worn out, we the Freshest Thing on
They said the Feeling been missing for this long
Ya style looking wrinkled, here's
getting there
To you
Worn through crutch tips
Nothing's stopping me from getting there
To you
And when I'm walking through
Door of your living room
I know
her to gone choose
Bought em fresh these ain't no worn shoes
Gun smoke is not what you want fool
I said it once and I'll say it again
Can't fuck with
is for my people that gave up on the turn up. People
Fightin’ hard to stay awake till the sun comes up
Getting worn out by that energetic blitz, till
at the secret spot
No it ain't real hidden but we won't get caught
Down there, cause nobody cares
7-8-1-5-0
A place I'll always call my home
Think it'd be worn
You run from years by chasing styles
Savvy looks to new age flair
The hot spot earrings aren't becoming
You don't look good in purple hair
New York
tips from a barstool
There's a spot down off East Clayton
Where they'll let me sing my blues
I'm runnin' on fumes now
Can't give out
There's some good
you're the fire in my heart
That I've always worn
This feels so surreal
But I'm alright
Just hold on to me tight
Tonight
It's our first time in a casino
In the corner of my dorm room, slouched and slightly torn,
Lies a beanbag chair, from many moons worn.
It's seen better days, once bright and fair,
Tryna fit in
Tryna be something I'm not
Not comfortable in this worn out skin
Don't know how to change these tattered spots
Can I learn new tricks
Super serious
My smile is all through
Stitches worn through, hell let's add another bruise
I've been fighting with my heart
And every time it wins I lose
and bright spots
It's just stuff
Used to seem charming
Now it's worn out
Things standing around
It's just stuff
It has no meaning anymore
Things
out
Take your spot on the roster
And die another man?
Imposter
No doubt
They'll ask you where are you from
Hold out
Don't doubt what you can become
Show
Feel so fresh jumping out the spot
It's going to be a damn good day
Scored a touchdown and I am feeling fly yeah
It's going to be a damn good day
And the good Lord knows the reason I'm just a cowpoke
Well I ain't got a dime in these old worn out jeans
So I'll quit eatin' steak and go back to beans
I'll
There's a spot in my heart,
Which no colleen may own.
There's a depth in my soul,
Never sounded or known;
There's a place in my memory,
My
to act the same
But only for what happened, well it was an awful shame
When Mrs. Murphy dished the chowder out
She fainted on the spot
She found
to the grade in the evening
They take the chill away fine.
Cut the telephone line and the story's the same.
There's a worn red chair by the window
That we found
the glitter's gone
We'll be adding on to make it even stronger
True love will never die
Long after the love has lost it's shine
After it's all tired and worn
up the spot like Kazinsky on safety
Blaze another track cause I'm simply hot to trot
Gotta make a knot, get the people into it
When I do it, grab
back on ya'|Blowin up the spot like kazinsky on safety|Blaze another track cause I'm simply hot to trot|Gotta make a knot, get the people into it|When I
it back on ya'
Blowin up the spot like kazinsky on safety
Blaze another track cause I'm simply hot to trot
Gotta make a knot, get the people into it
Discuss these worn spot Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In