Young Guns - Stitches

Every hour is a season
Every season* is a day
So I sit here picking stitches
'cos I find comfort in decay
How I long to fill my lungs
Tell me how does it feel to
Breathe air cold and clean
Cos I've been living on my knees
Since I was seventeen
Thought I was safe beneath the smoke
But even under cover I still choke
[01:25.94
[01:33.22
[01:40.46
[01:44.12
[01:47.87