Pulp Fiction
Laying on the floor
I've been here once before
And I'm not proud of it
Misery comes today
It's coming back my way
And I want it to leave me
doubtful you are the people
Where your anger run your sleep
Fate of those who's feet are slipping
Or to those who's eyes
Or to those who's eyes have seen
to him the strength belongs
The weak attempt his arms
And show me my offence
So look away from me
Because I can hardly see
I'm hiding nothing
doubtful you are the people
Where your anger run your sleep
Fate of those who's feet are slipping
Or to those who's eyes
Or to those who's eyes have seen
doubtful you are the people
When your anger run your sleep
Fate of those who's feet are slipping
Or to those who's eyes
Or to those who's eyes have seen
