| And when the floor gave out, we made our way to the ground
|
| And laid for hours
|
| In the ashen dirt, we knew we didn’t have much
|
| But it was ours
|
| Between loneliness and some broken love
|
| I’d choose none of the above
|
| They say we wanted it a little too much…
|
| Oh, it’s a distant land:
|
| The one where we live
|
| But it slipped from our hands
|
| The grass overgrown, the broken family home
|
| See the place where we grew up
|
| Turned a circus for gamblers and gawkers and theives
|
| When the word got around, we spilled out on the streets
|
| As the banks decorate every house in defeat
|
| All set to expire
|
| A fighter past his prime
|
| My daddy said
|
| No one likes a whiner
|
| But I got shiners on both eyes
|
| Boy, is there a job for you?
|
| And if there was
|
| Would you even want to?
|
| ‘Cause when the floor gave out, we made our way to the ground
|
| And laid for hours
|
| Cut-up and hurt, you held me firm
|
| The world moved on without us
|
| I know my honesty’s a little too much
|
| But there’s no one fighting for us
|
| Is there something here that you can still love?
|
| Still my memory stays and replays
|
| The first time that we held
|
| Or was it our world at all?
|
| Young and racing towards nothing
|
| Was it our world at all?
|
| Burning headlong with the blinders on
|
| Sold all my stock of the American dream
|
| More than someone to fuck
|
| Before we all fall asleep
|
| I see a broken world coming for us
|
| And Maria
|
| It’s you and me
|
| Fighting for love
|
| If we can believe it’s enough
|
| We’ll take the bombs from the great above |