paroles de chanson Hate for Sale - Pretenders

Hate for sale
Hate for sale
He won′t get hung or go to jail
He's got a curly tongue and a curly tail
But mostly he has hate for sale

Call it luck or inherited title
A guy like that is arrogant, idle
He takes and gets whatever he likes
Women, cars and motorbikes

He dines on calves, butchered and bled
Tankards of wine, burgundy red
Handmade suits and shoes and socks
Ooh, his breath could stop the clocks

Ooh, here he comes
He′s so predictable

Hate for sale
Hate for sale
He won't get hung or go to jail
He's got a curly tongue and a curly tail
He′s got a curly tongue and a curly tail

Money in the bank and coke in his pocket
Porn all day, wanks like a rocket
Teeth capped, ooh, he goes to the gym
Chest waxed, ooh, I look like him