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When England took my mother's youngest son, |
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She demanded him back. She said, |
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"Don't make me worry, son. |
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This isn't the time to run. |
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You're always thinking |
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Until the thinking's done." |
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Talking myself down gets so hard. |
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All I know is I don't wanna die in my car. |
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I can't get out of my head, |
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Just like it's always been. |
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He's in the mirror staring back at me, |
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Smiling through his worn down teeth. |
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I tell him, "You make me sick, |
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And the bullshit is getting thick." |
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And sometimes the hardest part |
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Is just getting on with it. |
|
Talking myself down gets so hard. |
|
All I know is I don't wanna die in my car. |
|
I can't get out of my head, |
|
Just like it's always... |
|
Talking myself down gets so hard. |
|
All I know is I don't wanna die in my car. |
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The war inside my head keeps raging, |
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And somehow the world keeps turning. |
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Yeah somehow the world keeps turning. |
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Yeah somehow the world keeps turning. |
