Theres a little black spot on the sun todayIts the same old thing as yesterday
Theres a black hat caught in a high tree top
Theres a flag pole rag and the wind wont stop
I have stood here before inside the pouring rain
With the world turning circles running round my brainI guess Im always hoping that youll end this reign
But its my destiny to be the king of pain
Theres a little black spot on the sun today
Thats my soul up thereIts the same old thing as yesterday
Thats my soul up there
Theres a black hat caught in a high tree top
Thats my soul up thereT
heres a flag pole rag and the wind wont stop
Thats my soul up thereI have stood here before inside the pouring rain
With the world turning circles running round my brainI guess Im always hoping that youll end this reign
But its my destiny to be the king of pain
5 comments:
når du paster et digt ind, kan du så ikke lige rette linjerne til så det er til at læse, tak.
(R)
You wouldn't know pain if it bite you in the ass.
ja det er en smukker sang, men hvem ville ikke være king of pain efter 24 timers tantra sex?
Det er kun en Police sang. Eller er det mig der er pro-regresssiv? Laver jeg nu projektioner ind i en sang, der udtrykker de følelser jeg ikke kan få afløb for andre steder? Er jeg for meget mand? Er min diller for stor?
forslidt måske.
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