Alba s touto skladbou:
White Butterfly,
Caught: White Butterfly,
In With The Old,
You rip my guts with every sharp word,
When you use that monster
Hiding underneath your tongue,
My words donât, they donât work on you,
No, they donât work like they used to.
âCause itâs been seven weeks, seven weeks,
Oh, oh, oh, seven weeks, since I called you,
When I try now; I just canât get through.
So far, the drinks have been so strong,
No writing on the post cards,
No memories to hang on.
Sleeping in my six oâ clock shadow,
People judging people so shallow,
I call you up to see what youâre doing,
To see if you wonât...
Send me your love, right through the ceiling,
I need your love, darlinâ this evening!
Oh, moma, moma, moma, what can I do?
Thereâs a jukebox baby,
And you can play our favorite song all night,
Until your moneyâs gone,
âCause if Iâm right about you darlinâ,
Then youâre probably laying in bed,
And your temperature is boiling,
âCause your making things up in your head.
Itâs been seven weeks, seven weeks,
Oh, oh, oh seven weeks, since I called you,
When I try now; just canât get through,
So far, the days have been so long,
But, now I got my fade on,
Screaming at you at the top of my lungs!
Fog is lifting from the old man,
I had so much fun in the trash can,
I wave my flag, but you still send your troops in,
To the war in your soul.
Send me your love, right through the ceiling
I need your love, darlinâ this evening!
Oh, moma, moma, moma, what can I do?
Backstage pass through these time zones,
Want you everyday, but Iâm not home,
Canât really touch you through the cell phone,
Thereâs so many things that you just donât know..
Itâs been seven weeks, seven weeks,
Oh, oh, oh, seven weeks, since I called you,
When I try now; just canât get through.
So far, the drinks have been so strong,
Now thereâs writing on the post cards,
Baby, seven weeks is just too long!