گیت کے بول کے نقاط
ENاصل بول
ترجمہ ابھی دستیاب نہیں۔ اصل بول دکھائے جا رہے ہیں۔
Runnin' runnin' from home,
Breakin' ties that you'd grown
Catchin' dreams from the clouds.
The city sounds burn your soul,
Turn your head to the cries
Of loneliness in the night.
Just like a fly when it's caught,
The spider soon takes it's prey,
Spins a dance round your heart.
Give me your beauty and age,
A pleasure pleasing my mind,
Your heart will shatter and fall.
Step on pavements so old,
Cast a glance at the young girls
A-making their way.
The passing image of you
Reflects a pain in my heart
And disappears in a crowd.
Runnin' runnin' from home,
Breakin' ties that you'd grown
Catchin' dreams from the clouds.
