
Transit Blues The Devil Wears Prada
На этой странице вы найдете полный текст песни "Transit Blues" от The Devil Wears Prada. 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.

Every morning, wake to the itch
The alarm clock ticks
Make some coffee, check the weather
Do my best to keep it together
(You can't feel the transit blues)
You can’t feel the transit blues without losing something you thought was true
Soon it will begin, soon it will begin
I can’t expect the world to comprehend the fits that I myself can’t defend
Every afternoon, avoid traffic, but feel frantic
My composure: a lost love letter
Do my best to keep it together
(You can't feel the transit blues)
You can’t feel the transit blues without losing something you thought was true
(You can't feel the transit blues)
You can’t feel the transit blues without losing something you thought was true
I can hear the questions now since journalism died somehow
The shout proclaimed: "The poison praised!"
They make my words an unmarked grave
(You can't feel the transit blues)
(You can't feel the transit blues)
You can’t feel the transit blues without losing something you thought was true
The alarm clock ticks
Make some coffee, check the weather
Do my best to keep it together
(You can't feel the transit blues)
You can’t feel the transit blues without losing something you thought was true
Soon it will begin, soon it will begin
I can’t expect the world to comprehend the fits that I myself can’t defend
Every afternoon, avoid traffic, but feel frantic
My composure: a lost love letter
Do my best to keep it together
(You can't feel the transit blues)
You can’t feel the transit blues without losing something you thought was true
(You can't feel the transit blues)
You can’t feel the transit blues without losing something you thought was true
I can hear the questions now since journalism died somehow
The shout proclaimed: "The poison praised!"
They make my words an unmarked grave
(You can't feel the transit blues)
(You can't feel the transit blues)
You can’t feel the transit blues without losing something you thought was true
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