LETRA
Use A− / A+ para ajustar a leituraTommy
Tommy was a preacher’s sonNow he's running through the jungle "yes sir!"Fingers cold and fireWhen you get so tired and we're so tiredLazing back in this desertWaitin’ for that sunny dayTommy was a preacher’s sonNow he's running through the streets sellin’ up that cocaineThose fires will get yaWhen you get too tired and we're so tiredEyes blister beaded fortress rolling fevered freight trains inWell I met three men with friends in officeSmooth dark skin and ivory teeth smilesOur boots come alive in this mud and this shit"Life is hard to fill with teeth that bite and eat up our fears"Through August fall of ‘69Jesus had birthed himHe spoke in guns through crippled sheetsFor Jesus had birthed himSugar cubes fingernails worming snakes that built the fire
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