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If you ask me what streets I'm fromYou'd probably laugh at meYou'd expect me to tell you talesOf friends I'd made ran into trouble withAnd all those sorts of thingsIf you ask me what songs I knowYou'd raise your hands in the airThey're not cool, they're not hipThey're not the ones you grew up withAnd all those sorts of thingsIf you ask about the clothes I swearYou wouldn't give the time of dayThey're not rude, they're not hipThey're not ones you would be seen inIf you were down to your last pennyIf you were down to your last pennyIf you ask about technologyYou'd roll your eyes in your headI am one of those fundies who keep upSo as not to get left behindAnd all those sorts of thingsAll those sorts of thingsLetras de cancionesBut ask me aboutWhat I know of the original sourceWhat I know about what makes you soreWhen you're out in the world aloneAsk me about birdsAsk me about flowersAsk me about smiling easilyWith someone you've only met that dayMy little brother didn't come to school todayThe teacher didn't seem to know exactly what to sayBut I saw him out the windowGold chiffon and pink flamingoOh, those diamond ringsHe was younger than I rememberSinging glory hallelujahI am free of thisAll those sorts of thingsI asked him aboutWhat he knew of the original sourceWhat he knew about what makes me soreWhen I'm out in the world aloneAsked him about birdsAsked him about flowersAsked him about smiling easilyWith someone he'd only met that dayAsked him about grooveAsked him about mothersAsked him about sunshine in the streetsAnd faded rain on your windowpaneOn truth I'll keep you inspiredAsk me about the hours in your gardenBaby, oh how I loved your face From Letras Mania