| Might as well be miles away
|
| Cut me down with a look so beautiful
|
| Walk around like you own the place
|
| And you know that you can have
|
| Anything that you want
|
| And I feel it like the shot from a ray gun
|
| And I’d give you every dollar I got
|
| And you know
|
| Eyes like a fire, but you talk like a saint
|
| Burn like a dollar, light a match in a safe
|
| Little in the bank accounts
|
| You got nothing to say, I don’t have much
|
| And it’s a god damn shame
|
| I know that you hold the cards
|
| You got bad news written all over you
|
| They say love shouldn’t be this hard
|
| And it’s cold
|
| You’re disappearing when I’m feeling sick
|
| Cloud of smoke and a Fox-haired mystic
|
| I didn’t come here to leave like this
|
| And it’s cold
|
| Eyes like a fire, but you talk like a saint
|
| Burn like a dollar, light a match in a safe
|
| Little in the bank accounts
|
| You got nothing to say, I don’t have much
|
| And it’s a god damn shame
|
| We try to drive to those horizon lines
|
| We can’t define
|
| We try to drive to those horizon lines
|
| We can’t define
|
| Eyes like a fire, but you talk like a saint |
| Burn like a dollar, light a match in a safe
|
| Little in the bank accounts
|
| You got nothing to say, I don’t have much
|
| And it’s a god damn shame
|
| I don’t have much
|
| And it’s a god damn shame
|
| I don’t have much
|
| And it’s a god damn shame |