You told me you can`t see
Then let me show you
All the things you have made wrong
You make the angel face
You deny say you`re the same
But I ain`t such a clown
I watch the space, I wash my pain
I have a cut, I hope you know
I drown in shame, I call you baby
I have a world, you have the door
We`ve no control
What`s on the ground
Are the socks you just drop
Are the traces of hope and love
Are old dreams
What`s on the ground
Are folks you deceive, let down
Are sunken songs and modes
Are some believes
What`s on the ground
Washing foul
America to the winners
Look over all your fame
It seems you got your own way
You really lost control
Of the pure innocence
There are no leavings neither trace
And your sins tumble down
South Cry - Washing Foul Lyrics
South Cry - Washing Foul Lyrics
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
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You told me you can`t see
Then let me show you
All the things you have made wrong
You make the angel face
You deny say you`re the same
But I ain`t such a clown
I watch the space, I wash my pain
I have a cut, I hope you know
I drown in shame, I call you baby
I have a world, you have the door
We`ve no control
What`s on the ground
Are the socks you just drop
Are the traces of hope and love
Are old dreams
What`s on the ground
Are folks you deceive, let down
Are sunken songs and modes
Are some believes
What`s on the ground
Washing foul
America to the winners
Look over all your fame
It seems you got your own way
You really lost control
Of the pure innocence
There are no leavings neither trace
And your sins tumble down
Then let me show you
All the things you have made wrong
You make the angel face
You deny say you`re the same
But I ain`t such a clown
I watch the space, I wash my pain
I have a cut, I hope you know
I drown in shame, I call you baby
I have a world, you have the door
We`ve no control
What`s on the ground
Are the socks you just drop
Are the traces of hope and love
Are old dreams
What`s on the ground
Are folks you deceive, let down
Are sunken songs and modes
Are some believes
What`s on the ground
Washing foul
America to the winners
Look over all your fame
It seems you got your own way
You really lost control
Of the pure innocence
There are no leavings neither trace
And your sins tumble down