Letras:
A C Newman Get Guilty

wallops of conversation aside A beat too late, and it's gone A twist on natural law Then you arrive with an impact rivaling science A sealed, delivered, a

tenth or the twelfth Make of that what you will Make of that what you will Once there was a haunted loop of your deep, fallen tears A forehead resting on a

I was a silent partner. I found myself with the rabble who stood on the mount, hipshot, thinking, but not out loud: "There are too many prophets here."

Sequins in your wake find their way 'Cause someone left the lights on And the noon, it is a powerful one Sunshine was outside and I found Something in