BAD
DREAMS
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The gods aint enough
To cover your backs
All your beliefs
Are showing the cracks
And you'll always suffer
But you'll never leave
You're cold to the touch
That's me
Poor little Angel
That sleeps
Poor little angel
Bad Dreams
The gold aint enough
To cover your tracks
The men in the trees
Are under attack
Love one another
Well that's what you preach
You're cold to the touch
That's me
Poor little angel
That weeps
Poor little angel
Bad Dreams
(Lyrics written by Tim Smith) |
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