|
so much for medicines |
|
and healthy patients |
|
we've got a little bit of a |
|
situation now |
|
i ride this gurnee |
|
towards my confession |
|
it's just another day |
|
in |
|
my sick profession |
|
i talk through my melodies |
|
but i never listen |
|
i'd |
|
rather spend all my time |
|
talking to you, talking to you |
|
oh i just wanna |
|
believe |
|
that were were made for something |
|
more than just what we can |
|
see |
|
this sickness keeps you coming back |
|
if you could see what i've seen |
|
then |
|
you'd believe in something |
|
ghosts are never |
|
more than they seem |
|
but they |
|
keep coming in your sleep |
|
they haunt you in your sleep |
|
some call them |
|
enemies |
|
some call them lovers |
|
i keep a map of my heart |
|
under my covers |
|
i |
|
marked the spot |
|
where we buried our hearts |
|
in the earth |
|
we've all got stars |
|
in our eyes |
|
see how they burn |
|
see how they burn |
