Besedila: Irma. Letter To The Lord.

I wrote a letter to the lord,
Begging him to send the chords
That would make you stay by my side
He sent an A minor groove,
Just as you like it, something smooth
That doesn't hurt at all

Here comes the major in all its glory Forgive the failure says i'm sorry
I asked if he could send the lines
But he said no, I didn't ask why
I took apen and laid it down

I wrote a love song, make it yours
Take all the pieces, there's nothing wrong
It's no poetry, no symphony
But these are my words,
These are my lines, this is my prayer

Cause every inch of my skin
Still holds the perfume of my sin
I tried to take it off so many times
I know this is my very last chance
No mercy, no kindness, no defense
I hope it comes naturally

Here comes the major in all its glory Forgive the failure says i'm sorry
I asked if he could send the lines
But he said no, I didn't ask why
I took apen and laid it down

(Merci a Lison pour cettes paroles)