|
Some things are best left behind |
|
Left to fade and not leave a trace |
|
Stop thinking of someone you knew |
|
Forget that face |
|
Let the details just slip from your mind |
|
A story that that no-one can tell |
|
No fingers that point back to you |
|
So what the hell? |
|
It's just out of reach, up in the air |
|
Who knows how the pieces will land |
|
There's a twist in the road |
|
Round the next bend |
|
But the wheel's in your hands |
|
The wheel's in your hands |
|
As above, so below |
|
Let your colours fly! |
|
Let the good times roll! |
|
Back to the start, to wipe the slate |
|
Cut away that part, forget that face |
|
Cut! To a house on a hill |
|
No-one lives there anymore |
|
The windows are all boarded up |
|
Forget that place |
|
And it's into the centre we rise |
|
All there is is all that you see |
|
Nothing is hidden away |
|
No mystery |
|
It's just out of reach, up in the air |
|
Who knows how the pieces will land |
|
There's a twist in the road |
|
Round the next bend |
|
But the wheel's in your hands |
|
The wheel's in your hands |
|
As above, so below |
|
Let your colours fly! |
|
Let the good times roll! |
|
Back to the start, to wipe the slate |
|
Cut away that part, forget that face |