Tell her this
I don’t like the kiss
I know that it’s something I’ll miss
Tell her that
I’ll never be raid
As long as she’ll be there to wait for me
Tell her this
I don’t dare to twist
I ran through a confident fist
Tell her that
The gypsy was real
December is what makes the toe crams and stomachache
Hard to heal
And it don’t mean a thing
If you can’t try to be
But you’re always expecting from me
Tell her this
I’ll never be rich
And christmas was always a bitch
Tell her that I still feel the same
For in between me and you we see things better
And it don’t mean a thing
If you can’t try to be
But you’re always expecting from me
Tell her this
I don’t like the kiss
I know that it’s something I’ll miss
And it don’t mean a thing
If you can’t try to be
But you’re always expecting from me
Though it don’t mean a thing
If you can’t try to be
But you’re always expecting from me