Musical Sundays

"I don't wanna go, I don't wanna stay, so there's nothing left to say.

And why you'd lie when you wanna die, when you hurt inside."

Musical Sundays

"Dis-moi où es-tu caché? Ça doit faire au moins mille fois que j'ai compté mes doigts."

Muscal Sundays

"My window's cracked, but they can be replaced. 

But your arm will tire throwing stones my way."