| The time has come for colds and overcoats
|
| We’re quiet on the ride
|
| We’re all just waiting to get home
|
| Another week away, my greatest fear
|
| I need the smell of summer
|
| I need its noises in my ears
|
| If looks could really kill
|
| Then my profession would be staring
|
| Know we do this cause we care
|
| Not for the thrill
|
| Collect calls to home
|
| Tell them that I realize
|
| That everyone who lives will someday die
|
| And die alone
|
| And we won’t let you in
|
| Though we’re down and out
|
| No we won’t let you in
|
| You win, you win, you win
|
| I wrote more postcards than hooks
|
| I read more maps than books
|
| Feel like every chance to leave
|
| Is another chance I should have took
|
| Every minute is a mile
|
| I’ve never felt so hollow
|
| I’m an old abandoned church with broken pews
|
| And empty aisles
|
| My secrets for a buck
|
| Watch me as I cut myself wide open
|
| On this stage
|
| Yes, I am paid to spill my guts
|
| I won’t see home till spring
|
| Oh, I would kill for the Atlantic
|
| But I am paid to make girls panic
|
| While I sing
|
| And we won’t let you in
|
| Though we’re down and out
|
| No we won’t let you in
|
| And we won’t let you in
|
| We don’t want what isn’t ours
|
| We won’t let you in
|
| You win, you win, you win
|
| And the coastline is quiet
|
| While we’re quietly losing control
|
| And we’re silent but sure
|
| We invented the cure
|
| That will wash out my memories of her
|
| «The harpoon is loaded. |
| The cage is lowered
|
| The water is red.»
|
| Like you, like you
|
| And we won’t let you in
|
| Though we’re down and out
|
| No we won’t let you in
|
| And we won’t let you in
|
| We don’t want what isn’t ours
|
| We won’t let you in
|
| You win, you win, you win… |