He thrusts his fists against the post and still insists he sees a ghost He thrusts his fists against the post and still insists he sees a ghost She's slippin through his fingers as she's movin' out to the coast He thrusts his fists against the post and still insists he sees a ghost
If your world was all black and if your world was all white Then you wouldn't get much color out of life now right Nicknamed shamrock my name is not shamus Girlies on the tippy cause my homie is famous My name is not o'houigheighi nor is it brian If I said that I was weak you know I'd be lyin' Suckers try to bite they try to pursue it If you explain to a musician he'll tell that he knows it but he just can't do it
Version imprimable
