"#17" as written by and Faulkner....
May I remind you.
May I remind you that you are through
Being the fresh blood.
Everyone's seen the tricks you get up to.
It's so nice, it's so cold. Your #17

You have a taste for something
You liked to very long ago.
Nothing can equal blazing a trail
Through fields of virgin snow.
It's so warm, it's so sweet. Your #17.
It's so firm, it's so neat. Your #17

You feel cold, you're a whiter shade of pale.
Truth be told. Hellhounds on your trail.
There goes your final nail.
Love is a strange bird,
Taking us places we can never dream.
Hard to imagine,
How does it feel in someone else's skin?
It's so cruel, it's so new. Your #17.
It's so fresh, it's all through. Your #17.

You've been told,
It was in a silent way,
You're too old to go on this way.
You really should behave
Or face an early grave.
There ain't a damn thing
I'll ever say to make you change your mind,
So take your fancy,
Knowing tomorrow is another time.
It' so nice, it's so cold. Your #17.
It's so soft, it's so bold. Your #17.
It's so warm, it's so sweet. Your #17.
It's so firm, it's so neat. Your #17.
Your #17.

Lyrics submitted by J0K3R

"#17" as written by Dave Faulkner

Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

Lyrics powered by LyricFind

#17 song meanings
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