The act of love . . . is a confession. Selfishness screams aloud, vanity shows off, or else true generosity reveals itself.
Albert Camus
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Biên tập viên
Mr. November
This is nothing like it was in my room
In my best clothes
Trying to think of you
This is nothing like it was in my room
In my best clothes
The English are waiting
And I don't know what to do
In my best clothes
This is when I need you
The English are waiting
And I don't know what to do
In my best clothes
I'm the new blue blood, I'm the great white hope
I'm the new blue blood
I won't **** us over, I'm Mr. November
I'm Mr. November, I won't **** us over
[repeat]
I wish that I believed in fate
I wish I didn't sleep so late
I used to be carried in the arms of cheerleaders
[repeat]
I'm the new blue blood, I'm the great white hope
I'm the new blue blood
I won't **** us over, I'm Mr. November
I'm Mr. November, I won't **** us over
[repeat]
I wish that I believed in fate
I wish I didn't sleep so late
I used to be carried in the arms of cheerleaders
[repeat]
I'm the new blue blood, I'm the great white hope
I'm the new blue blood
I won't **** us over, I'm Mr. November
I'm Mr. November, I won't **** us over