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Forty times you may question your life |
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Fortified with a hunting knife |
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Before you find out if you survive |
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Questioning marks have turned into scars |
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For the record you remember the few, yeah, |
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Who for a second time you bid adieu |
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Forty days in the neon haze |
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Festering dreams are dressed in vagaries |
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You follow the skyway |
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You follow your right-of-way |
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You follow the streets and the cars |
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And the shadows and the stars. |
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Forty lessons you may hear from the sun, now |
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You never listened to a single one |
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Falling leaves whisper like thieves |
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Not that you mind you live on stolen time |
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You follow the skyway |
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You follow your right-of-way |
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You follow the streets and the cars |
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And the shadows and the stars. |
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Fists loaded with a furious disdain |
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Your ferocity will be your shame |
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Fast motion like a curious flame |
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The best I can do is to turn my back on you |
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You follow the skyway |
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You follow your right-of-way |
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You follow the streets and the cars |
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And the shadows and the stars. |
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You follow the skyway |
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You follow your right-of-way |
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You follow the streets and the cars |
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And the shadows and the stars. |
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Streets and the cars and the shadows and the stars |
