Earthquake Weather
Beck
I push I pull the days go slow
Into a void we filled with death
And noise that laughs falls off their
Maps all cured of pain and doubts
In your little brain
Something's coming sky is purple
Dogs are howling to themselves
Days are changing with the weather
Like a rip tide could rip us away
Into a void we filled with death
And noise that laughs falls off their
Maps all cured of pain and doubts
In your little brain
Something's coming sky is purple
Dogs are howling to themselves
Days are changing with the weather
Like a rip tide could rip us away
Izvajalec: Beck