Modern industrial life Take your soul in its fangs We might as well be All washed away
If I don't hang on tight If I let myself stray I will lose my sight And I will be washed away
And, oh, some days I walk my own Oh, my own pace It takes away the heartache
It seems no one has their own eyes And we all speak from the cage Are we living in fright Consenting to be washed away
I'll lose my heart, my own eyes I'll lose the smell of the rain As I walk aimless in the night I will be washed away
And, oh, some days I brush the palm Oh, of my hand Across the face of this forgotten land
I left my print in the sand Organic mark made I got up and walked in the night And I refused to be washed away
The burden of modern life The heart it beats and it prays Forever to walk in the night And never be washed away
And, oh, some days I walk my own Oh, my own pace It takes away the heartache
And oh some days, I brush the palm Oh, of my hand Across the face of this forgotten landTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
