Let your bookcases and your shelves be your gardens and your pleasure-grounds. Pluck the fruit that grows therein, gather the roses, the spices, and the myrrh.
Judah Ibn Tibbon
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Biên tập viên
Cold Turkey
Temperature's rising
Fever is high
Can't see no future
Can't see no sky
My feet are so heavy
So is my head
I wish I was a baby
I wish I was dead
Cold turkey has got me on the run
Body is aching
Goose-pimple bone
Can't see no body
Leave me alone
My eyes are wide open
Can't get to sleep
One thing I'm sure of
I'm at the deep freeze
Cold turkey has got me on the run
Cold turkey has got me on the run
Thirty-six hours
Rolling in pain
Praying to someone
Free me again
Oh I'll be a good boy
Please make me well
I promise you anything
Get me out of this hell
Cold turkey has got me on the run