22 juin 2008
Chrissie Hynde
I see him standing silhouetted in the lamp light,
I cross the street and I quicken my pace.
He cups his hands and he lights a cigarette,
I find myself in the bones of his face.
It's just the night in my veins,
Oh, making me crawl in the dust again.
It's just the night under my skin, slipping it in.
He's got his hands in my hair and his lips everywhere,
Oh yeah, it feels good, it's alright.
Even if it's just the night in my veins.
THE PRETENDERS 
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