| Tonight, I feel you coming down.
|
| I feel you coming over me like broken glass,
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| Falling down to cut my dreams.
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| Now, if these walls could only talk,
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| They’d say no more than I can say here with a grin,
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| a bottle and Saint Anthony.
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| My thoughts are turning on me now
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| And the pace with every footstep, takes me farther down
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| The dark end of the street that you call home.
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| Confessions, stories, chances left behind.
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| All show their faces in every stranger that I find.
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| There’s something you don’t wanna know.
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| There’s something I don’t wanna say.
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| Transmission on the radio. |
| No direction, no way home.
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| There’s something going wrong with us.
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| There’s something broken in our eyes.
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| Caress the emptiness and pour another drink
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| and wash away these memories,
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| These dirty walls with gasoline…
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| The faces here don’t have a thing to hide.
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| They tell the story of every broken heart survived.
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| There’s something you don’t wanna know.
|
| There’s something I don’t wanna say…
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| That if we make it out alive,
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| there’s more to life than to survive!
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| There’s something going wrong with us,
|
| there’s something broken in our eyes.
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| Tonight, I feel you coming over me.
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| Tonight, I don’t wanna feel a thing.
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| Now we never ever planned to go this far.
|
| We never ever thought that it would get this dark.
|
| There’s something you don’t wanna know.
|
| There’s something I don’t wanna say.
|
| Transmission on the radio. |
| No direction, no way home.
|
| There’s something going wrong with us.
|
| There’s something broken in our eyes. |