crowave says quarter to eleven
The car keys on the counter
And I am sitting stony in my prison
And I'm trying to let it go,
I sort through the years for explanation,
for why you do the things that you do.
Eyes flash in familiar confrontation,
So I'm gonna let it go, by now
I think I know, it's nothing personal
You were born a beautiful baby,
heaven has its eye on you
But somewhere down the line
and I was sent to get to you
You don't even know how you hurt me,
but I am bound to tell you the truth
There is a world that a man
and ooh, it's nothing personal
I can smell the coffee in the kitchen
I can hear the cornflakes fill the bowl
your eggs are getting cold
No, no, it's nothing personal
No, no, it's nothing personal
No, no, it's nothing personal
No, no, it's nothing personal
4.9
