| I endure stroking my head on the cranes
|
| Well now they alone are all just one in the same
|
| Demean and try to walk about
|
| Among stolen signs that talk about
|
| A passion that lies, well easy now
|
| Maybe I was found
|
| Just bathed in doubt
|
| I’ll scan a different coast
|
| Where my blame can lay and roast
|
| In the heat of my own treason
|
| Just as another pavement toasts
|
| I remain aware of those
|
| When consumed to paths of reason
|
| Now do you stew your lovers croak to the glue of your own throat?
|
| When the scenery starts peeling
|
| And the scenery starts peeling
|
| This is the final line I wrote
|
| And applying the final coat
|
| That would bring down the ceiling
|
| This is the final line I wrote
|
| And applying the final coat
|
| That would bring down the ceiling
|
| This is the final line I wrote
|
| And applying the final coat
|
| That would bring down the ceiling
|
| This is the final line I wrote
|
| And applying the final coat
|
| That would bring down the ceiling
|
| This is the final line I wrote
|
| When applying a final coat
|
| That would bring down the walls
|
| Well easy now, easy now
|
| Maybe I was found
|
| Just bathed in doubt |