I thought I had a lot, I opened my eyes at eight It's past one and I never said good morning Hold on there, wait, don't run away, I'm only talking Don
Still falling Breathless and on again Inside today Beside me today A round broken in two Till your eyes shed into dust Like two strangers turning into
I never really partied a lot Steamed up a few windows, kissing in cars And that's as dangerous as I got Didn't drink, didn't smoke Did I think I could
There are code breakers with lines well tapped Traces sweeping out across the static night You are draped in white like the blossoms of the tree Looking
Yo canto de mi coraz?n Y t? mi amigo inspiras mis pasos Me voy por el mundo donde siento varia gente Pero nunca hay una persona como t? Mirame, que estoy
Thumbtacks all spread out across your hometown state A hollow tree at half mast Wait until wintertime, leaves a paper trail And a licorice plant that'
[instrumental]
Wire fences still coiled with flowers of the night Songs of the birds like hands call the earth to witness Sever from fear before taking flight Fences
From the delta to the plains Storms touching down again Devil's hiding in the house Angel's in the rain Corrugated lovers swinging on a wire Switching
Watching your eyes go back and forth Out on the highway Watching your heart bend to the road Kiss your forehead as I turn to go Following those signs
Four in the morning the sidewalk's asleep Dogs on the porch and spiders on the leaf Shipwrecked by night, sailing through days Nobody noticed the slipping
When the fists of winter fly, driving bones into the snow Blackened frostbitten nights, vodka running dry The statues cloaked in white and migrants from
Dialing in a forgotten voice Coming in like waves rolling off the coast Sweeping through illegal ports Rising from the depths, falling off the tongue
Through miles of waste to cross upstream Risking all dreams for what the surface brings Free like a flow that pours from your hand Claiming its own new
I'm gonna walk these streets of cold concrete Like I'm a ghost searching for its grave Then I'll dwell by the edge of this man made lake And descend into
Miles of highway poppies A stretch of maybe flowers past Signal Hill away We were parked and searching For a hubcap rolling into the fields of thorn
Beneath the sun, all deeds done, meaningless are they Labor in vain, tormenting pain, incessant toil Chasing the wind, grasping (for) what's been, wearisome