![We’re Here to Listen [2002] - The Microphones](/uploads/posts/2024-04/1328060.jpg)
We’re Here to Listen [2002] The Microphones
На этой странице вы найдете полный текст песни "We’re Here to Listen [2002]" от The Microphones. Lyrxo предлагает вам самый полный и точный текст этой композиции без лишних отвлекающих факторов. Узнайте все куплеты и припев, чтобы лучше понять любимую песню и насладиться ею в полной мере. Идеально для фанатов и всех, кто ценит качественную музыку.
![We’re Here to Listen [2002] - The Microphones](/uploads/posts/2024-04/1328060.jpg)
We've been talking all day
And we've bathed and ate supper
And now we pause for breath
And we acknowledge certain death
And the size and the possibility of living lustily
I am standing with my microphone before you all
You're looking right at me
You could scoot yourself closer
And why, why, why did we come here?
Someone made posters
We called for directions
So, so we relax our muscles
And I sing the same air as you
These words are the air you breathe
You are looking right at me
And our bodies sit firmly
On a ground that's still churning
And there's a rumble so deafening
And there's a roar from above
The squealing of love
And there's a crashing in the branches
And there's bass drums at dances
And there's a hissing on the freeway
And a whistling crevasse
The quiet hum of the moon
And we've bathed and ate supper
And now we pause for breath
And we acknowledge certain death
And the size and the possibility of living lustily
I am standing with my microphone before you all
You're looking right at me
You could scoot yourself closer
And why, why, why did we come here?
Someone made posters
We called for directions
So, so we relax our muscles
And I sing the same air as you
These words are the air you breathe
You are looking right at me
And our bodies sit firmly
On a ground that's still churning
And there's a rumble so deafening
And there's a roar from above
The squealing of love
And there's a crashing in the branches
And there's bass drums at dances
And there's a hissing on the freeway
And a whistling crevasse
The quiet hum of the moon
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