Steam'i Yükleyin
giriş
|
dil
简体中文 (Basitleştirilmiş Çince)
繁體中文 (Geleneksel Çince)
日本語 (Japonca)
한국어 (Korece)
ไทย (Tayca)
Български (Bulgarca)
Čeština (Çekçe)
Dansk (Danca)
Deutsch (Almanca)
English (İngilizce)
Español - España (İspanyolca - İspanya)
Español - Latinoamérica (İspanyolca - Latin Amerika)
Ελληνικά (Yunanca)
Français (Fransızca)
Italiano (İtalyanca)
Bahasa Indonesia (Endonezce)
Magyar (Macarca)
Nederlands (Hollandaca)
Norsk (Norveççe)
Polski (Lehçe)
Português (Portekizce - Portekiz)
Português - Brasil (Portekizce - Brezilya)
Română (Rumence)
Русский (Rusça)
Suomi (Fince)
Svenska (İsveççe)
Tiếng Việt (Vietnamca)
Українська (Ukraynaca)
Bir çeviri sorunu bildirin
I went over to my friend, he was eatin' a pickle.
I said "Hi, what's happenin'?"
He said "Nothin'."
Try to sing this song with that kind of enthusiasm;
As if you just squashed a cop.
-- Arlo Guthrie, "Motorcycle Song"
You go down to the pickup station,
craving warmth and beauty;
You settle for less than fascination --
a few drinks later you're not so choosy.
And the closing lights strip off the shadows
on this strange new flesh you've found
🌂 -- 👹 -- 👽 -- 📘 -- 👑 -- 🎫 -- 🍖 -- 🎁 -- 📗 -- 🚘 -- 💃 -- 💛 -- 🐊 -- 🌋 -- 🌳