|
Throw them down your throat |
|
Many rivers to cross |
|
Laugh under granite-grey skies, |
|
As if it's their loss |
|
Slip on your floor; bound aftermath |
|
That which has stolen your years |
|
Son, don't become one more shadow |
|
Don't drop your anchor here |
|
Broken down liver and withered frame |
|
Lungs wrinkled like old balloons |
|
Dampen your spirits by sunrise |
|
And swear at the moon |
|
'Cause sometimes it's like trying to breathe through a pillow |
|
Trying to dance on the tightrope in the pouring rain |
|
Sometimes it's like, like you're treading on egg-shells |
|
Trying to floss up your top-set with a rusty chain |
|
It's all because of you |
|
It's all because of you |
|
It's all because of you |
|
It's all because of you |
|
It's all because of you |
|
It's all because of you |
|
Sometimes it's like trying to breathe through a pillow |
|
Trying to dance on the tightrope in the pouring rain |
|
Sometimes it's like, like you're treading on egg-shells |
|
Trying to floss up your top-set with a rusty chain |
|
Sometimes it's like trying to breathe through a pillow |
|
Trying to dance on the tightrope in the pouring rain |
|
Sometimes it's like, like you're treading on egg-shells |
|
Trying to floss up your top-set with a rusty chain |
