| I run on backs of horses
|
| All through the night waiting for the light
|
| The trees are stripped to skin
|
| Their branches planned like a dead man’s hand
|
| Roses on her virgin eyes
|
| Her lips are shut
|
| The string is cut
|
| I saw myself hanging from the ceiling
|
| Then I was 17
|
| Don’t watch the people you love grow old
|
| Just watch the people you hate grow cold
|
| I got away from her all night and day
|
| But to no avail, to no avail she
|
| Never came to me again
|
| Not ever again, not ever again
|
| Away from her all night and day
|
| But to no avail, to no avail she
|
| Never came to me again
|
| I can’t still walk on solid ground
|
| Repeat
|
| I run on backs of horses
|
| All through the night waiting for the light
|
| The trees are stripped to skin
|
| Their branches planned like a dead man’s hand
|
| Roses on her virgin eyes
|
| Her lips are shut
|
| The string is cut
|
| I saw myself hanging from the ceiling
|
| Then I was 17
|
| Don’t watch the people you love grow old
|
| Just watch the people you hate grow cold
|
| Repeat
|
| I got away from her all night and day
|
| But to no avail, to no avail she
|
| Never came to me again
|
| Not ever again, not ever again
|
| Away from her all night and day
|
| But to no avail, to no avail she
|
| Never came to me again
|
| I can’t still walk on solid ground |