Bài hát My Seventh Rib (Live) Báo Lỗi

Your silver tongue laughs at the clowns of our age

A slow production line of cheap-shots from both sides

Shot from the hip to my seventh rib

A spoiled tomato lies in all that you say

And I was the last of us to know


Sound the alarm for my sentimental ways

Have come in view and we've all got our own knives

Sold to the worst of the devils we know

Our mind and tight skin will be old

But this wasn't meant for us to know


Youth's open shutters

Give way to another

Taken by slight of hand...

And every American

Has the mouth of a pelican

Now can I share that pillow with you love?


They've got us in fits to find a way out

Of this exploded view of a life once so simple

First with the curse that my sentimental ways

Are drawing my innocence to a close

And these were not meant for me to know