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Panic At The Disco Pretty. Odd. That Green Gentleman Things are shaping up to be pretty odd. Little deaths in musical beds. So it seems I`m someone I`ve never met. You will only hear these elegant crimes, Fall on your ears from criminal dimes. They spill unfound from a pretty mouth. Everybody gets there and everybody gets their way. I never said I missed her when everybody kissed her, Now I`m the only one to blame. Things have changed for me, and that`s okay. I feel the same, I`m on my way, and I say. I want to go where everyone goes, I want to know what everyone knows I want to go where everyone feels the same I never said I`d leave the city, I never said I`d leave this town. A falling out we won`t tiptoe about. |
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