I spent the winter on the verge Of a total breakdown while living in Norway I felt the darkness of the black metal bands But being such a fawn of a man
Baby, you've got the sort of hands to rip me apart And baby, you've got the sort of face to start this old heart But your eyes are warning me this early
And you know it's time to go Through the sleet and driving snow Across the fields of mourning Lights in the distance And you hunger for the time Time
you do? - Good evening, Mrs. Thompson (Luxuriant madame) - How do you do your hair? - Oh, I recognized you in the crowd Even though you were Sort of
gonna sort it out? How am I gonna sort it out? How am I gonna sort it out? How am I gonna sort it out? How am I gonna sort it out? How am I gonna sort
There's a secret, stigma, reaping wheel Diminish, a carnival of sorts Chronic town, poster torn, reaping wheel Stranger, stranger to these parts Gentlemen
I can't remember 1989 I can't remember what you look like 'cause I was dimed Wasn't the whole world at the time A robot heart for my sleep in girl She
I can't find myself in this fucking mess, and it seems like they have found it all. Can i hand my life into your grasp to see if you can sort it out?
to feel? Or just 20,000 people standing in a field. And I don't quite understand just what this feeling is. But that's okay 'cause we're all sorted out
Mitt sorte hjertes savn er kommet til en ende Mitt A?ye har funnet Mitt nordre dunkle dyp En lang tids vandring er omme her ved de sorte sjA?ers land
Sort of smiled, sort of kissed me Then blushed and ran away, I thought that he would miss me Sort of dreamed he washed me over With multicolor poster
and liberal Our views are well expressed It takes all sorts to make a world it?s just that our sort?s Ugly: I think my sort?s Queenie and Lowbutt: Our sort
Og- Children, if you help me find the little gold crock you can have anything that's made in fairyland. There'll be things plenty for allish Wondrish
Something sweet, Something sort of grandish Sweeps my soul When thou art near. My heart feels so sugar candish My hand feels so ginger beer. Something
Do you think I'm sort of alive? Should I set these motives aside? Do I feel? Well sort of, but not When you walk your body through mine What's keeping
you couldn't sleep Then you wish that you could sort out all your memories And set aside just the ones you wanna keep I have learned how to sort out
This is the last time that I feel lonely and sorry for myself It's getting worse without your help This is the last time that I feel tired I've tried