| On a plane, somewhere over the sea
|
| Above the rain, the bottle sets me free
|
| I turn to stone, fall back in my seat
|
| The cuts are gone but somehow I’m still bleeding
|
| You know it’s true
|
| There’s nothing I can do about you
|
| Move to France
|
| La Rochelle or Nice
|
| Get a house
|
| Pretend to live in peace
|
| Paint the walls
|
| A blackout of your face
|
| Stalk the halls
|
| Then move into the basement
|
| You know its true
|
| There’s nothing I can do
|
| Pick a fight, it’s just you being right
|
| Walk away, there’s nothing I can say
|
| You know it’s true
|
| There’s nothing I can do about you
|
| So don’t you mind the gap when you leave
|
| There’ll be time enough to turn tail tomorrow
|
| Broken up like tanker on the rocks
|
| Not made of much
|
| I’m like the Cubs against the Sox
|
| On a plane, somewhere over the sea
|
| I fall asleep convinced that I ain’t breathing
|
| You know it’s true
|
| There’s nothing I can do
|
| Pick a fight, it’s just you being right
|
| Walk away, there’s nothing I can say
|
| You know it’s true
|
| There’s nothing I can do about you
|
| So don’t you mind the gap when you leave
|
| There’ll be time enough to turn tail tomorrow |