| Humid longing in the street
|
| Creatures chewing at their needs
|
| The breeze in cuffs can eat you up, easy when you’re young
|
| And you’re tired of taking, take what you get
|
| Living glamors up a hill
|
| Just to roll you back down, so you ge the feel
|
| Again it’s your pride that pays, more than you’ll every think
|
| The chewing gum believers drone
|
| Can you return that stare?
|
| Can you maintain that whole?
|
| Bag it happy as we came
|
| At the dawn we died again
|
| Sometimes the general pace, seems like some great escape
|
| Where every moment feels like a break for it
|
| You in the outer folds
|
| Needs for the creeping western? |
| tolls?
|
| We can’t feel real at all
|
| Time is a force is a breaking? |
| point?
|
| You in the outer folds
|
| Needs for the creeping western? |
| tolls?
|
| We can’t feel real at all
|
| Time is a force is a breaking? |
| point?
|
| How do we frame the long road home?
|
| Tell our friends we’re almost done
|
| So it becomes the rule, run when the running’s cool
|
| And the writing comes, undone
|
| Can you return that stare?
|
| Can you maintain that whole?
|
| You in the outer folds
|
| Needs for the creeping western? |
| tolls?
|
| We can’t feel real at all
|
| Time is a force is a breaking? |
| point?
|
| You in the outer folds
|
| Needs for the creeping western? |
| tolls?
|
| We can’t feel real at all
|
| Time is a force is a breaking? |
| point? |