ఢారాన౩ పరరిలిలిiggles పినో.
I'm looking more like my mother. I was so stubborn waiting for you.
I was so sure my belly-bending knees and nobody cared for more.
It does no good to talk about anything. It does no good to tell you I'm a wounded being.
It's not the things we discovered. It's in the way we tried to cover with ground.
I'm not a flat-finger toilet. I was so sure and never right.
I was a tongue that's telling me that somebody else is trying.
And I got no feeling about it all. In this old season of darling love.
And I got no reason to bear it here.
I could fall backwards forever. I could be boxed inside and living without.
Well, don't blow my cover. It's taking years to make a beautiful shroud.
I got no use in talking about anything. And I can tell you it seems to be haunting me.
It does no good to talk about anything.
Oh, oh, oh, oh Oh, oh, oh, oh
