|
Every street is dark |
|
And folding out mysteriously |
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Where lies the chance we take to be |
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Always working |
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Reaching out for a hand that we |
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Can't see |
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Everybody's got a hold on hope |
|
It's the last thing that's holding me |
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Invitation to the last dance |
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Then it's time to leave |
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But that's the price we pay |
|
When we deceive |
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One another/animal mother |
|
She opens up for free |
|
Everybody's got a hold on hope |
|
It's the last thing that's |
|
Holding me |
|
Look at the talkbox in mute |
|
Frustration |
|
At the station |
|
There hides the cowboy |
|
His campfire flickering |
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On the landscape |
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That nothing grows on |
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But time still goes on |
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And through each life of misery |
|
Everybody's got a hold on hope |
|
It's the last thing that's holding me |
