[00:02.00]Young Guns - Stitches
[00:07.00]
[00:19.96]Every hour is a season
[00:23.87]Every season* is a day
[00:27.31]So I sit here picking stitches
[00:31.02]'cos I find comfort in decay
[00:34.62]How I long to fill my lungs
[00:55.57]Tell me how does it feel to
[01:00.98]Breathe air cold and clean
[01:04.65]Cos I've been living on my knees
[01:08.15]Since I was seventeen
[01:10.62]Thought I was safe beneath the smoke
[01:17.58]But even under cover I still choke
[02:38.66][01:25.94]My wings are clipped but even if they weren't
[02:46.06][01:33.22]I've not the guts to fly and leave behind the Earth
[02:53.36][01:40.46]There's no poetry in my soul
[02:57.09][01:44.12]Just a list of lies I've told
[03:00.72][01:47.87]And I don't know how much longer I can hold on.