28 de marzo de 2009

I can’t say baby, where I’ll be in a year.


You talk about things and nobody cares. You're wearing other things that nobody wears. You're calling my name, but you gotta make clear. I can't say baby where I'll be in a year. Some sweet talkin' mama with a face like a gent. Said my get up and go must a got up and went. Well I got good news, she's a real good liar. 'Cause the backstage boogie set your pants on fire. Sweet emotion. I pulled into town in a police car. Your daddy said I took it just a little, to far. You're telling me things, but your girlfriend lied. You can't catch me 'cause the rabbit gone died. You stand in the front just a shakin' your ass.  I'll take you backstage, you can drink from my glass. I talk about something you can sure understand, 'cause a month on the road, and I'll be eating from your hand.

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