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Текст песни The Whitlams - Cries Too Hard

The Whitlams - Cries Too Hard слова песни




Torch the moon, burn the schoolsShe wrote in red on her bedroom wall -"Nothing`s pure", the paint runs to the floorShe laughs too easily and cries too hardShouldn`t drink alone, the colours runHow can she forgiveWhen we know well what we do?Feather scratches on her wristDry run with a bread knife for a final twistIt wouldn`t be for show if it should come to thisShe was born to feel it all, to see it allWhen I feel so lightly it`s still burning brightlyAnd she won`t look awayTorch the moon, burn the schoolsWhy it`s a man making all the rulesFrida Khalo poster on her door

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