I'll walk this long road 'Till I find my way home To somewhere familiar To lay down my bones The trouble is, nothing looks the same The trouble is,
I like my loneliness and the thoughts it brings The darkness can sometimes be a pleasure to me I stand around on the outside of it peering from the edge
Progress is so good You've got to keep it moving You have to be rich Or richer than your father Money matters always seem to get you down But money
Please could you hold this I can't take it anymore I'm bruised and broken Rest my head against the floor Well, I'm fed up with this train of events
of heaven again Haven't got a lot to learn And my eyes stray again There's no other ending Sunday sun Yesterday is ending Sunday sun There's no other
Ninety days will protect our ways Fire puts out fire We'll build walls then we'll build them higher This will keep them out The street's on fire The
The first duty of man Is to collect as many things as he can Nothing should stand in his way This should be his sole pursuit Time-wasting is a crime
I turn around and I'm in your world Your pleasure is my pain in your world But, dissatisfied I'll crawl to your world But, your body's warmth will only
Electric light won?t shine through My darkest thoughts they stick like glue Too many hours till the daytime comes And in the meantime I can watch Shadows
The rise and the fall. Dialect and different skill. Gripping my hand With every intention of breaking free. The roar of the crowd haults to the simple
I lost you long ago along the way I never thought I'd be here without you And every time I think about the way I think maybe I'm better off Maybe I'm
You said you loved me More than anyone else could ever know But now you're leaving Can't wait to strive to work this out And I've never been one to brag
You know that I can't see the damaged marking now from the corner of my eyes when this is all stretched out to the wall and their lips are shooing out
Dressed up from head to toe, to get by. it seems once again, I forgot what keeps me safe and dry. to the weepy windowpanes, that are dripping with dew
I love you, But I hate you. Which brings to mind How much I love you. We could've worked this out, ya know. In a little room, In a little, locked room
We're pretty diamonds pouring out all dancing on massive flowers like horses pouring down and where could we go? We're pretty pictures painted out Synapsing
