Текст песни
Salt
grips
the
road
awaits
his
lift
again
Street
orange
glow
shades
the
odds
against
One
more
sip
A
shoe,
a
miss
A
shaving
nick
One
extra
kiss
Who's
to
know
whatever!
Not
up
to
me,
not
up
to
you
Not
up
to
me,
not
up
to
you
The
swings
don't
swing,
the
park's
been
dead
for
years
How
do
you
know
your
last
swing
weren't
the
last
for
good
Hard
book
on
freaks
Fresh
summer
peach
Creased
magazine
Sugar
chocolate
treat
Who's
to
know
whatever
Not
up
to
me,
not
up
to
you
Not
up
to
me,
not
up
to
you
The
street's
so
long
where
she
lost
her
pocket
purse
Kept
the
last
picture
of
the
man
she
committed
first
Cracked
windscreen
rain
French
murder
play
Junk
take
away
Tired
street
parade
Who's
to
know
whatever!
Whatever!
Not
up
to
me,
not
up
to
you
Not
up
to
me,
not
up
to
you
Ah,
whatever
Not
up
to
me,
not
up
to
you,
not
up
to
anything
we
do
Not
up
to
me,
not
up
to
you
Or
you,
or
you,
or
you
It's
not
up
to
me
It's
not
up
to
you
It's
not
up
to
you
It's
not
up
to
you
It's
not
up
to
you
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