Lost Cause
Your sorry eyes, they cut through bone.
They make it hard to leave you alone.
Leave you here wearing your wounds
Waving your guns at somebody new.
Baby I'm a lost
Baby I'm a lost
Baby I'm a lost cause.
There's too many people you used to know
They see you coming they see you go.
They know your secrets and you know their's
This town is crazy, but nobody cares.
Baby I'm a lost
Baby I'm a lost
Baby I'm a lost cause.
I'm tired of fighting
I'm tired of fighting
Fighting for a lost cause
There's a place where you are going
You ain't never been before
There's no one laughing at your back now
No one standing at your door
Is that what you thought love was for?
Baby I'm a lost
Baby I'm a lost
Baby I'm a lost cause
Beck
posted by Rita Redshoes at 10:15:00 da manhã
4 Comments:
I need you.
My love.
You. One.
"I'm tired of fighting
Fighting for a lost cause"
estamos todos.
música calma, soube bem.
"Art is the child of Nature; yes, her darling child, in whom we trace the features of the mother's face, her aspect and her attitude." Beck, o verdadeiro senhor:)
Só para referir que estive ontem na FNAC a conversar contigo e até fiz o trocadilho sobre o nome do teu blog e o novo cd dos radiohead. Continua com força tanto no blog como na tua carreira músical. Beijinhos! e obrigado pela simpatia ontem! ;)
Striking the right equipoise of placing a live toaster on the edge of the bath tub railing, requires not so much simply a talented submission of consciousness but a certain added `savoir faire´ to keep it there in counter point check. IOW one needs talent to handle talent, if not to become a lost cause forgone the (zabriskie) point of no return to terra firma.
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trocadilhos of introspective (on air) soliloquies; with tailing reverb? I wouldn't know anything 'bout that...no really!No Aptitude tests were done here...
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