We're refugees, walking away from the life
that we've known and loved;
nothing to do nor say, nowhere to stay;
now we are alone.
We're refugees, carrying all we own
in brown bags, tied up with string;
nothing to think, it doesn't mean a thing,
but we can be happy on our own.
West is Mike and Susie,
West is Mike and Susie.
West is where I love,
West is refugees' home.
sexta-feira, agosto 10, 2007
Van Der Graaf
Publicada por Pedro Proença à(s) 4:23 da tarde
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