| In the pale of
|
| Whatever half-love you have left
|
| For the olden days
|
| Would you wake up
|
| Or trace the plumb line to your death
|
| To your final scene
|
| What is love then, but to drag a dead deer
|
| By its horns, from the passing lane
|
| Just to drive on, neither to arrive or to escape
|
| Not to save someone
|
| You belong to the cause
|
| Come on, believe!
|
| Pull your heels from the farthest
|
| Corner you’ve been in
|
| You belong to us
|
| You belong to the cause
|
| You were wrong, I meant no harm
|
| We were young once
|
| We were wilder in our boots
|
| In the race to fame
|
| Now we’ve dried up
|
| We no longer have our youth to sell
|
| From the penny stage
|
| Were you mine?
|
| You were never the kind to call me yours
|
| Were you born afraid?
|
| So carry on, carry all your desire to a flame
|
| To an unamed voice
|
| You belong to the cause
|
| Come on, believe!
|
| Pull your heels from the farthest
|
| Place they’ve carried you
|
| You belong to us
|
| You belong to the cause
|
| You were wrong, I meant no harm
|
| Black shadows
|
| Back-battles
|
| You have held in your lungs too long
|
| You were searching
|
| I was purchasing a flight
|
| To an old luck town, town town
|
| You belong to the cause
|
| Come on, believe!
|
| Pull your heels from the farthest
|
| Place they’ve carried you
|
| You belong to us
|
| You belong to the cause
|
| You were wrong, I meant no harm |