SOUR TIMES - PORTISHEAD To pretend and one can find, Fantasies and moring rose, Forbidden fruit, hidden lies, Curtosies that I dispise in me. Take a ride, take a shot now, Coz nobody loves me, its true, not like you do. Covered by the blind belief, That fantasies of sinful screams, Bare the facts, {are soon
} to die, In the bowels no need to lie in chain. Coz nobody loves me, its true, not like you do. [
Am I what and why,] Coz all I have left is the memories of yesterday, Oh the sour times Coz nobody loves me, its true, not like you do. After time the bitter taste, Of [ ] , descent or race, Scattered seed, buried lives, Histories of our disguise reborn, Circumstance will decide. Coz nobody loves me, its true, not like you do. *
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