گیت کے بول کے نقاط
ENاصل بول
ترجمہ ابھی دستیاب نہیں۔ اصل بول دکھائے جا رہے ہیں۔
How come these precious things were made to seem remote
How come the words I weighed were forced back down my throat
There was no room for honesty
No quarter that was mine
No noble cause
I tried fake a life
To fool those snapping jaws
From here I dare to launch my flimsy paper boats
I shove each gently from the shore but guard it where it floats
They must not drift too far from me
I still sense danger and
They are too frail
In time they'll catch the wind
And fly with billowed sail
They must not drift too far from me
I still sense danger and
They are too frail
In time they'll catch the wind
And fly with billowed sail
