2 acessos
The time has come for colds and overcoats,
We're quiet on the ride we're all just waiting to get home.
Another week away, my greatest fear.
I need the smell of summer, I need it's noises in my ear.
If looks could really kill, then my profession would be staring.
Please know we do this 'cause we care and not for the thrill.
I make collect calls to home, to tell 'em that I realize that everyone who lives will someday die and die alone.
And we won't let you in.
Though we're down and out.
We won't let you in.
I wrote more postcards than hooks.
I read more maps than books.
Feel like every chance to leave is another chance I should have took.
Every minute is a mile, I've never felt so hollow.
I'm an old abandoned church with broken pews and empty aisles.
My secrets for a buck.
Watch me as I cut myself wide open on this stage.
Yes, I am paid to spill my guts.
I won't see home 'till spring.
Oh, I would kill for the Atlantic,but I am paid to make girls panic while I sing.
And we won't let you in.
Though we're down and out.
And we won't let you in.
We don't want what isn't ours.
We won't let you in.
You win.
And the coastline is quiet.
While we're quietly losing control.
Yes, we're silent but sure we invented the cure that will wash out my memories of her.
"The harpoon in loaded. The cage is lowered. The water is red" like you.