Besedila pesmi

Beck - We live again

 

 



These withered hands have dug for a dream

Sifted through sand and leftover nightmares

Over the hill, a desolate wind

Turns shit to gold and blows my soul crazy



The end, oh, the end

We live again

Oh, I grow weary of the end



Oh, hungry days in the footsteps of fools

Gazing alone through sex-painted windows

Dredging the night, drunk libertines

Stink like colognes from a new-fangled wasteland



The end, oh, the end

We live again

Oh, I grow weary of the end



Love is a plague in a mix-match parade

Where the castaways look so deranged

When will children learn to let their wildernesses burn

And love will be new, never cold and vacant



These withered hands have dug for a dream

Sifted through sand and leftover nightmares



The end, oh, the end

We live again

Oh, I grow weary of the end

 

 

 

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