Jonathan Bree - Murder 歌词

Now you don't feel welcome
In your own home

Once your (?) went to your kind alone
Now you dont feel safe in
Your sweet home

Double lock every door
They're down the road

(Instrumental)

You're the embarassment
Bigots calling for the line number
Feeling lost(?) everything

Bigots calling for the line number
这个歌词已经 565 次被阅读了