| Oh, every silhouette and skyline
|
| And constellations in the city lights
|
| They’re passing in and out of my mind
|
| And I’m trying so hard not to fall
|
| And it’s the same old situation
|
| The same red blood is flowing through us all
|
| I hear the groaning of creation
|
| And we’re trapped up against this wall
|
| Oh, what a tangled web we weave
|
| Of powerlines and city streets
|
| So blow wind, blow
|
| Go on and carry us home
|
| We all just want to see
|
| We want to see
|
| We’re always waiting on a landslide
|
| To bury us or set us free
|
| And now my words aren’t coming out right
|
| As he opens the door to leave
|
| To leave
|
| Oh, what a tangled web we weave
|
| Of powerlines and city streets
|
| So blow wind, blow
|
| Go on and carry us home
|
| We all just want to see
|
| We want to see
|
| Woooahhh
|
| Woooahhh
|
| Woooahhh
|
| Woooahhh
|
| Woooahhh
|
| Hold me like the setting sun
|
| Hold me like the setting sun
|
| Hold me like the setting sun
|
| Woooahhh
|
| Oh, what a tangled web we weave
|
| Of powerlines and city streets
|
| So blow wind, blow
|
| Go on and carry us home
|
| We all just want to see
|
| Blow wind, blow
|
| Go on and carry us home
|
| We all just want to see
|
| We want to see |