| The city stays high all night
|
| Lit up and sugared like a pinball table of fireflies
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| An echo of home on the edge of life
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| Shot through the veins of an angel on the devil, the next side.
|
| But if you have forgotten your precious mother tongue
|
| What do you think your mother would say of what you've done?
|
| And if you can't remember the place you call a home
|
| Or having trouble placing who's calling on the phone?
|
| Who's calling on the phone?
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| Dip the nose of the car to the sugar lights
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| Out to the desert of the cinnamon hills and moon shine
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| He said: "What can I do to make you mine?"
|
| Kiss out the twang from my lips on the way to the big time.
|
| But if you have forgotten your precious mother tongue
|
| What do you think your mother would say of what you've done?
|
| And if you can't remember the place you call a home
|
| Or having trouble placing who's calling on the phone?
|
| Who's calling on the phone?
|
| Forgot your mother tongue
|
| Forgot your mother tongue
|
| Forgot your mother tongue
|
| Forgot your mother tongue
|
| But if you have forgotten your precious mother tongue
|
| What do you think your mother would say of what you've done?
|
| And if you can't remember the place you call a home
|
| Or having trouble placing who's calling on the phone?
|
| But if you have forgotten your precious mother tongue
|
| What do you think your mother would say of what you've done?
|
| And if you can't remember the place you call a home
|
| Or having trouble placing who's calling on the phone? |