Moёt /blues song/
________________________________________
Please girl, stop this game to me,
because i'm pouring salty tears
everytime you walking next to me
you lips whisper, how lonely man could be,
*
Moёt, take me to your place,
my parfume smells of whiskey and lime,
we'll dance in dark room
and make all your Christmas wishes ~ true
*
When you see this woman, mind, that she's mine,
you know, i sing this blues for her,
till she's fine
she deserve this dimond ring and french kiss.
*
Moёt, take me to your place,
my parfume smells of whiskey and lime,
we'll dance in dark room
and make all your Christmas wishes ~ t*
