Too late He knows you're all back-to-front Your bottom lip shaking Your happines quakes as it's torn apart
Sunday late When you go and get your stuff "What's yours is mine" That unpractical line Back to bite your arm
No, don't leave him anything No letters on the side You've gone over everything Screw-ups and the whys Erease him, his memory A tortured decline Was never your style And it's wild dreams of the start At the finish line Gum peeling apart From each other's lives
Too late They all know you hate your jobs Your liminal friends With their plans to ascend Like some holy mob
Get it straight A lifeboat's for better hearts Prescription or not There's some morals forgot White-tattoo them on
No, don't read him anything No poem, song, or line There's virtue in everything But most in all that's quiet An action is meddling A dagger in time Better leave it to dry And it's wild dreams of the start At the finish line Gum peeling apart From each other's lives
Wild dreams of the start At the finish line Gum peeling apart From each other's lives
[♫♫♫]
Wild dreams of the start At the finish line Gum peeling apart From each other's lives
Wild dreams of the start At the finish line Gum peeling apart From each other's livesTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.