Tom Milsom - West Street | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Tom Milsom
• West Street

One hundred and fifty thousand voices
Saying the same thing every day
One hundred and fifty thousand pairs of shoes
Wearing away

Shuffling round beneath the surface
A thousand people standing still
I can devour them with my edifice
Moving at will

So much to do when you're a servant
So much to give when you're a slave