歌曲 | Box Of Limes |
歌手 | Curt Kirkwood |
专辑 | Snow |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
作词 : Kirkwood | |
This box of limes is burning cold | |
Come all these moonbeams, burning down my door | |
These dirty rhymes are on a roll | |
That's not what it seems | |
Crawling across your floor | |
Fading stars in the purple orange night | |
Growing dreams of roses blue and white | |
This toothpick, Baby, is burning wax | |
Pigs on a postcard are playing jacks | |
They play for nothing, no looking back | |
That's not what it seems | |
Crawling through the cracks | |
Fading stars in the purple orange night | |
Growing dreams of roses blue and white | |
This box of limes is burning cold | |
Come all these moonbeams, further to be sold | |
These dirty rhymes are chewing glass | |
That's not what it seems | |
Coming over the pass | |
Fading stars in the purple orange night | |
Growing dreams of roses blue and white | |
Fading stars in the purple orange night | |
Growing dreams of roses blue and white | |
This box of limes is burning cold | |
This box of limes | |
This box of limes is burning cold | |
These dirty rhymes are chewing glass | |
That's not what it seems | |
Coming over the pass |
zuo ci : Kirkwood | |
This box of limes is burning cold | |
Come all these moonbeams, burning down my door | |
These dirty rhymes are on a roll | |
That' s not what it seems | |
Crawling across your floor | |
Fading stars in the purple orange night | |
Growing dreams of roses blue and white | |
This toothpick, Baby, is burning wax | |
Pigs on a postcard are playing jacks | |
They play for nothing, no looking back | |
That' s not what it seems | |
Crawling through the cracks | |
Fading stars in the purple orange night | |
Growing dreams of roses blue and white | |
This box of limes is burning cold | |
Come all these moonbeams, further to be sold | |
These dirty rhymes are chewing glass | |
That' s not what it seems | |
Coming over the pass | |
Fading stars in the purple orange night | |
Growing dreams of roses blue and white | |
Fading stars in the purple orange night | |
Growing dreams of roses blue and white | |
This box of limes is burning cold | |
This box of limes | |
This box of limes is burning cold | |
These dirty rhymes are chewing glass | |
That' s not what it seems | |
Coming over the pass |
zuò cí : Kirkwood | |
This box of limes is burning cold | |
Come all these moonbeams, burning down my door | |
These dirty rhymes are on a roll | |
That' s not what it seems | |
Crawling across your floor | |
Fading stars in the purple orange night | |
Growing dreams of roses blue and white | |
This toothpick, Baby, is burning wax | |
Pigs on a postcard are playing jacks | |
They play for nothing, no looking back | |
That' s not what it seems | |
Crawling through the cracks | |
Fading stars in the purple orange night | |
Growing dreams of roses blue and white | |
This box of limes is burning cold | |
Come all these moonbeams, further to be sold | |
These dirty rhymes are chewing glass | |
That' s not what it seems | |
Coming over the pass | |
Fading stars in the purple orange night | |
Growing dreams of roses blue and white | |
Fading stars in the purple orange night | |
Growing dreams of roses blue and white | |
This box of limes is burning cold | |
This box of limes | |
This box of limes is burning cold | |
These dirty rhymes are chewing glass | |
That' s not what it seems | |
Coming over the pass |