Gela Bacaro
In my jacket a pack of flaming cars, just jacks, Jokers and a queen of hearts, my heart is beating, beating like a ring, the sun pullin' to the drop and they go.
Why do the people in the country want to look like the people in the city, when the people in the city are just like the spring, I want the people in the country to have a flight of shirts and saggy jeans all covered in black, I want the people in the country to be open and kind.
For most times a man is with a never mind, with a fake like a dog, so bite your behind if you ever find out you're not one of the kind. All these parksons I open up and say, try to not turn the drop and they go.
So this is what they do out here for fun, they play bingo and let their engines fly, so now it's a jackpot, it's a fake, it's criminal.
G42, I'm going to die end, I'm gonna guide a rapper, a handful of friends, as many events in two and I'll need a chance, just bring your savings and a bottle of wine, then Friday nights, rebirth, sell a tag.
This little sideways, the little sugarcotch and match, maybe a handful of sales, we're all 100 bucks, go to wild farm parties in a big old lounge.
We're not so perfect, don't move us in such, we couldn't make our debts to get insurance, money, take home and be next, be snow, be shuggies on it, we can slide on it or fall.
I'm waiting for you, and all I'm doing here is just waiting for you.
I'm waiting for you, and all I'm doing here is just waiting for you.
I'm waiting for you, and all I'm doing here is just waiting for you.
