|
Contagious, |
|
Like the rhythm of a record through my mind, |
|
Played slowly, |
|
To emphasize the condition of a dead line. |
|
So hopeless, |
|
So let the record play on and on and on... |
|
Can I speak? |
|
Can I speak now? |
|
Without a voice to call my own, |
|
I'm left to walk these streets alone, |
|
Waiting through the afternoon again. |
|
Time can't get the best of me. |
|
Surely I will never be, |
|
Waiting through the afternoon again. |
|
Don't rush it, |
|
Cause I'm not living my one life, |
|
Without danger. |
|
The stakes it takes, |
|
Making what we make, |
|
Giving up to the page, |
|
And then I'm left waiting, |
|
Let the record play on and on and on... |
|
Can I speak? |
|
Can I speak now? |
|
Without a voice to call my own, |
|
I'm left to walk these streets alone, |
|
Waiting through the afternoon again. |
|
Time can't get the best of me. |
|
Surely I will never be, |
|
Waiting through the afternoon again. |
|
I'm left to walk these streets alone, |
|
The afternoon again, |
|
Without a voice to call my own, |
|
The afternoon again, yeah.. |
|
Can I speak? |
|
Can I speak.. |
|
Without a voice to call my own, |
|
I'm left to walk these streets alone, |
|
Waiting through the afternoon again. |
|
Time can't get the best of me. |
|
Surely I will never be, |
|
Waiting through the afternoon again. |
