| The years keep coming
|
| We’ll keep climbing up
|
| Losing touch with whatever I thought I was
|
| And now I’m sitting in a red eye terminal
|
| Had to see the world and now I got are bills to show
|
| I’ve got my mother’s nose
|
| My father’s silence
|
| And my brother’s hopes
|
| Headed home
|
| Building bodies out on the road
|
| Got this song stuck in my throat
|
| Some cryptic code from some dream I wrote
|
| Says, «I am gonna be the man who brings back God»
|
| She sang to me like I should know
|
| The years keep coming
|
| We’ll keep climbing up
|
| Losing touch with whatever I thought I was
|
| And now I’m sitting in a red eye terminal
|
| Had to see the world and now I got are bills to show
|
| Want to leave no more
|
| Constant prose
|
| I put the rhymes out and arrange some notes
|
| Drifting off alone
|
| My flight’s been boarded
|
| Got this song stuck in my throat
|
| Some cryptic chords to some dream I wrote
|
| Said I am gonna be the man who brings back God
|
| You keep saying shit like I don’t know
|
| The years keep coming
|
| We’ll keep climbing up
|
| Losing touch with whatever I thought I was |
| And now I’m sitting in a red eye terminal
|
| Had to see the world and now I got are bills to show
|
| Want to leave no more
|
| t-shirt chorus
|
| Built myself into a mindless monster
|
| Here I am singing cliche love songs
|
| Selling the same shit that I grew up on
|
| Losing touch with anything that I thought I was
|
| Losing touch with anything that I thought I was
|
| The years keep coming
|
| We’ll keep climbing up
|
| Losing touch with whatever I thought I was
|
| And now I’m sitting in a red eye terminal
|
| Had to see the world and now I got are bills to show |