| And when I wake up in the morning
|
| To feel the daybreak on my face.
|
| There’s a blood that’s flowing through the feeling
|
| Witha knife to open up the sky’s veins.
|
| Some things will never change
|
| They just stand there looking backwards
|
| Half-unconsious from the pain.
|
| They may seem rearranged.
|
| In the backwater swirling
|
| There is something that’ll never change.
|
| And when I shoulda been gone a long time
|
| It laughs, and says I find ways.
|
| Just when they’re sheltered under paper
|
| The rockets come at us sideways.
|
| (Bridge)
|
| Hey, I’m blind.
|
| Good Fine.
|
| Roll the time
|
| On whose dime.
|
| And when I wake up in the morning
|
| To feel the daybreak on my face.
|
| There’s a blood that’s flowing through the feeling
|
| Witha knife to open up the sky’s veins. |