utorok, 10. apríla 2012

Curly hair, red lipstick!



Remember how we used to party up all night.
Sneaking out and looking for a taste of real life.
Drinking in the town firelight.
(Pabst Blue Ribbon on ice)

Sweet sixteen and we had arrived.
Walking down the street as they whistle, "Hi, hi!".
Stealin' police cars with the senior guys.
Teachers said we'd never make it out alive.

There she was my new best friend.
High heels in her hands, swayin' in the wind.
While she starts to cry, mascara runnin' down her little Bambi eyes:
"Lana, how I hate those guys.".

This is what makes us girls.
We don't look for heaven and we put our love first.
Don't you know we'd die for it? It's a curse.
Don't cry about it, don't cry about it.
This is what makes us girls.
We don't stick together 'cause we put our love first.
Don't cry about him, don't cry about him.
It's all  gonna happen.




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