I've been at so many crossroads
that I've forgotten all the turns
and I've spent all my money
on ways to wipe out my concerns
But the therapy in a tall glass of gin
is not something that leaves you blissful within
in the morning
the daylight is broken
just like the night before
and we keep sending a mayday
that never reaches the shore
The more that you sleep the more tired you get
I try to forgive but it's hard
When you turn me over
to the war
turn me over
to the war
the therapy in a tall glass of gin
is not something that leaves you blissful within
I've seen so many faces
with masks made out of clay
so stiff and immobile
just like the games they play
The more that you sleep the more tired you get
I try to forgive but it's hard to forget
How good it would feel to be senseless and numb
to not really care at all
When you turn me over
to the war
turn me over
to the war