Tekster:
Swingin Utters The Sounds Wrong

that sounds You got me telling me the differences Between night and day I thank the Lord I wouldn't have it any other way If these things sound wrong

good about saying good-bye There aint nothing fair about saying farew ell There aint nothing better than my baby So go to hell There aint nothing wrong

Cigarette ashes And tickets to free dances A buck bottle of wine Under a minute of my time I'll give you all that I have, son It may be less than I have

swell looks mighty slim, And the water level's down The dirty sea adds to the junk I'm in Until the sun creeps up the sound And then I'm outright broken