|
The day is gone |
|
when the angels come to stay |
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And all the silent whispers |
|
will be blown away |
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And lying in the corner |
|
a pair of high heel shoes |
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Hanging on the wall |
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gold and silver for the blues |
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One too many wasted sunsets |
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One too many for the road |
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And after dark the door is always open |
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Hoping someone else will show |
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Someone is waiting behind |
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an unlocked door |
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Grey circles overhead empties |
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on the floor |
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The cracks in the walls have |
|
grown too long |
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The slow hand is dragging on |
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afraid to meet the dawn |
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One too many wasted sunsets |
|
One too many for the road |
|
And after dark the door is always open |
|
Hoping someone else will show |
