Born to die away by the ripped tide side
Gripping one's love in stride
You with the clapping hands
Screaming for the win
Where will you begin when it ends
Smiles thought they were the show
And the bows of the liquor lows
Candles burn until they are blown out by the storming snow
Nightmare sister where is your little shadowy mister?
I got the blues for you baby, yes I have this feeling you got the blues too
Where will you be little sister when you ain't got your mister?
Another morning in the tides of a late May
These were the days I tried to run and stay away from
A feeling feels foreign only when one is boring
Market place is burning and downtown don't have no friends
The trash cans are rolling westward
What was that pause when I asked you for your word?
To and fro as well as the too late already done's
I used to love baby
What a fool I was back then, what I used to be
Ride care trolley tracks with the basement breaks on our knees
Are we the men we were born to be,
Or are we excusing ourselves to let out a whimpering sneeze?
Pencil pads ***** brashly for a poor excuse of work
Turks with guns and missile launcher rad fads
A war is yonder don't you wonder?
May 18, 2011
May 18, 2011 at 6:24 PM UTC
Born to die away by the ripped tide side
Gripping one's love in stride
You with the clapping hands
Screaming for the win
Where will you begin when it ends
Smiles thought they were the show
And the bows of the liquor lows
Candles burn until they are blown out by the storming snow
Nightmare sister where is your little shadowy mister?
I got the blues for you baby, yes I have this feeling you got the blues too
Where will you be little sister when you ain't got your mister?
Another morning in the tides of a late May
These were the days I tried to run and stay away from
A feeling feels foreign only when one is boring
Market place is burning and downtown don't have no friends
The trash cans are rolling westward
What was that pause when I asked you for your word?
To and fro as well as the too late already done's
I used to love baby
What a fool I was back then, what I used to be
Ride care trolley tracks with the basement breaks on our knees
Are we the men we were born to be,
Or are we excusing ourselves to let out a whimpering sneeze?
Pencil pads ***** brashly for a poor excuse of work
Turks with guns and missile launcher rad fads
A war is yonder don't you wonder?