The ghost is sitting blistering in baggage claim, like a sinner at the pearly gates praying Saint Peter shout my name Your thrift store suitcases to the gaudy faces to becoming queen the fax machine transmitting all the shirts and things Hoping maybe the lady I'm saving from a florescent Hades, escapes the ticket thrown away inside the case Maybe she's gone missing by mix up or hiccup that switches the terminal change lane blame the plane Either way I aint gonna leave today without seen her face, I mean this place is poison I can get a taste trade my hope for an antidote to maybe make my escape, but I go back into the flames to ensure that she is ok They say its just a phase, they tell me sit and wait, they say its on its way, they say that every face becomes a frame Then cultivate a common name, pack my things to get on the plane an fly leave her standing at the baggage claim...
:hook: I aint gone leave with empty hands, I aint gonna leave with empty hands (X2)Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
