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Mostrar mensagens com a etiqueta The Information. Mostrar todas as mensagens
Mostrar mensagens com a etiqueta The Information. Mostrar todas as mensagens

segunda-feira, 15 de fevereiro de 2021

Beck - Think I'm In Love


I really think I better get a hold of myself
Don't wanna let the night get ahead of myself
Whisperin' her love through a smoke ring smile
She doesn't know what happens when she's around

I think I'm in love
But it makes me kinda nervous to say so
I think I'm in love
But it makes me kinda nervous to say so

Doodododododooodoo

Probably lay my head on a wooden floor
Tell her I was tired from working the store
Counting all the cash from an old shoebox
Saving up to buy her something she wants

I think I'm in love
But it makes me kinda nervous to say so
I think I'm in love
But it makes me kinda nervous to say so

What if it's wrong?
What if it's wrong
To pray in vain?
What does it mean
To fake your death?
To wake up tainted?

Take a little picture in a photobooth
Keep it in a locket and I think of you
Both of our pictures, face to face
Take off your necklace and throw it away

I think I'm in love
But it makes me kinda nervous to say so
I think I'm in love
But it makes me kinda nervous to say so

Really think I better get a hold of myself
Don't wanna let the night get ahead of myself
Whisperin' her love through a smoke ring smile
She doesn't know what happens when she's around

I think I'm in love
Think I'm in love
Think I'm in love
Think I'm in love
Think I'm in love
Think I'm in love
Think I'm in love
Think I'm in love

sábado, 17 de setembro de 2016

Beck - No Complaints



We are aimless
And the target is an empty wall
We're out of patience
With smiles that cut across her face
No complaints
But I wish I had my top of my brain
I'd like to walk
But the sun doesn't know we're awake

We're in spaceships
Take a visit to the Pyranees
Paid vacations
Send a brochure from the agency
No complaints
But my girlfriend dug a ditch in my room
Walking papers and a hole
Straight out from my shoes

No complaints
But it's harder
To believe in the truth
She'll write a message
On a billboard
And I'll send it to you

We feel painless
Check the status on the info line
In some ways tainted
Radiation from the factory
No complaints
But it's overrated, that's for sure
Take a bus back
From Little Rock, Arkansas
Or Modesto
That's where my drawl comes from

sábado, 27 de dezembro de 2014

Beck - Inside Out



See us come, runnin' from nothin'
Through the grave, looking for somethin'
We're not lost, we're just losing
All we used will hold us together

If you take a road out from under me
If you stare the sun out of the sky
Take a voice back from the ventriloquist
Breathing cigarettes, talkin' in gibberish

Inside out when you get older
In between and over your shoulder
Hurt some days, givin' me shivers
Throw my soul in a river of mirrors

For all we know, this is all we need
For all we know, this is all we need
I need air now, I can't breathe
For all we know, this is all we need

Let the fireworks drown in the gutter
Let the battery-run mill elapse
Yesterday the cloudless samaritan
Cowboy magician with vandalized fiction
I don't care, I don't care anymore
Get these plastic fangs out of my neck
So easy to tune it all out again
Fate is contagious, sleeps on a patient

Down another rung
Slipping down now
Down another rung
Slipping down now
Down another rung
Slipping down now
Down another rung
Slipping down now
Down, down
The ladder we go

quinta-feira, 5 de abril de 2012

Beck - Nausea



1, 2, 3, 4

Now I'm a seasick sailor
On a ship of noise
I got my maps all backwards
And my instincts poisoned
In a truth blown gutter
Full of wasted years
Like blown-out speakers
Ringin' in my ears

Oh it's nausea, oh nausea
And we're gone
It's nausea, oh nausea
And we're gone

Now I'm a straight-line walker
In a black-out room
I push a shopping cart over
In an Aztec ruin
With my minion fingers
Working for some God
Who could see his own reflection
In a parking lot

Oh it's nausea, oh nausea
And we're gone
No it's nausea, oh nausea
And we're gone

Now I'm a priest teenager
On a tower of dust
I'm a dead generator
In a cloud of exhaust
I eat alone in the desert
With skulls for my pets
I rate the days, one to ten
With lead cigarettes

It's nausea, oh nausea
And we're gone
It's nausea, oh nausea
And we're gone