And it's all inside your head.
|
Pictures painted perfect, black and red.
|
It's a theme worth fighting for.
|
And all the lines now have been drawn.
|
Arousing questions.
|
No one's getting hurt.
|
You're a patriot of words.
|
And it's cloudy all day and you don't have much to say.
|
A weakened attempt.
|
Taking over.
|
Getting answers.
|
Take a step.
|
Irradicate.
|
A lonesome day of work and sweat and tears
|
and grief and constant running hate.
|
|
And if I had a dime for every time you cried.
|
Then I would buy you a holiday in Rome.
|
And if I had a chance to buy a piece of time.
|
I'd wake up to a life of crime.
|
|
A broken jaw.
|
A penny lost.
|
The sounds of shattered bits of glass and stepped on moss.
|
And I know you well.
|
A sour girl, who gave up hopes and dreams of a different world.
|
And I hope you've bought some time
|
because every minute lost is a minute past your prime; time TV gets you through.
|
A lonesome day of work and sweat and tears
|
and grief and thoughts of twenty-two.
|
|
A pseudo-thought.
|
I'm getting lost.
|
The taste of blood.
|
American fights hurt so much.
|
And I can't believe, you're getting up.
|
The cost of living everywhere it just went up.
|
|
And if I had a dime for every time you cried.
|
Then I would buy you a holiday in Rome.
|
And if I had a chance to buy a piece of time.
|
I'd wake up to a life of crime.
|
|
-----------------
|
American Fights
|
| Keepsake |
