| Hate recreated
|
| A revelation
|
| A-listen to me
|
| I’ll tell you I’m about to run
|
| And the ceiling’s are undone
|
| Specialized victories
|
| For overage whores
|
| I felt up your feelings
|
| And they left me no more time
|
| To see what I want to find
|
| (Believe) let it go
|
| (And leave) the shots in closing
|
| (Believe) discretion grove
|
| For it’s time to go there
|
| Yeah, there’s time, there’s time, there’s time
|
| To go there
|
| A Celt alcoholic
|
| Feeling past blue
|
| I’m tryin' to get up
|
| From sending all my selves to you
|
| And in times I tilted you
|
| Major Alfonso
|
| Mined up the gold
|
| The ceremonial dead trees
|
| Told him all that he could do
|
| And it’s all we do to run, run, run, run
|
| (Believe) let it go
|
| (And leave) the shots in closing
|
| (Believe) discretion grove
|
| For it’s time to go there
|
| You’re never gonna run aground until the sun is down
|
| You are gonna hear the sound of a crazy ship
|
| On an insane raid
|
| Discretion wind, let it go
|
| You’re never gonna run aground until the sun is down
|
| You are gonna hear the sound of a crazy ship
|
| On an insane raid
|
| Just crash our wind on a manic bay
|
| Distract the wind on a manic bay
|
| Scratch the wind on a manic bay |