Ask me how did I get this far, and I’ll say “In the back of a car writing pictures of what I want, though those ghosts still continue to haunt me” And every time I’m feeling numb, I listen to Neil Young; “(We’re) all...pissing in the wind,...there ain’t nothing like a friend..”
If all we are is sorrow, if all we are is dust, then what?
Where do we go from here? We dream of flowers in the air But all life breathes with grief, and all they want is money So we’ll try and we’ll pray just for one more happy day And the asshole is dead while he’s sleeping in his bed
If all we are is what we’ve done with this small stretch of time If all we are is what we’ve felt then I guess pain is mine And I don’t know what else to say about the corners of my mind But I just want to feel like there’s a point to all these lines
So if we make it through these times, and more sorrow is all we find I hope I can at least leave something behind A small word, or a sigh, that’d be fineTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
