Lyric | Song |
I seem to recognize your face | |
At home, drawing pictures of mountaintops with him on top | |
Alone, listless / Breakfast table in an otherwise empty room | |
Come to send / Not condescend | |
Freezing, rests his head on a pillow made of concrete | |
Vacate is the word / Vengeance has no place for me or her | |
Once divided / Nothing left to subtract | |
Sheets of empty canvas, untouched sheets of clay | |
[song title] as I busted down the pretext | |
'Son,' she said, 'have I got a little story for you' | |
| Lyric | Song |
My lips are shaking / My nails are bit off | |
One, two, three, four, five against one | |
She lived on the curve of the road | |
Waiting, watching the clock / It's 4:00, it's got to stop | |
Winded is the sailor / Drifting by the storm | |
The waiting drove me mad | |
On the edge / Windowsill / Ponders his maker, ponders his will | |
I took a drive today | |
He won the lottery when he was born | |
What the #### is this world running to? | |
|
Comments