| Lookin' back at the crash site
|
| I don’t see me by the roadside
|
| Well this heart is on wheels tonight
|
| Straight through the ghettos and without lights
|
| Now every heart has a blind side
|
| Where it knows how to improvise
|
| Well this place is a whorehouse tonight
|
| Cheap lovers make expensive wives
|
| But all of these horses
|
| That you chase around
|
| In the end they are the ones
|
| That always bring you down
|
| This invisible city
|
| Where no one sees nothing
|
| We’re touching faces in the dark
|
| Feelin' pretty is so hard
|
| Now all of these voices
|
| And all of these noises
|
| With all their illusions of choices
|
| They’ve come to my door
|
| With one dozen roses
|
| The imitation of good faith
|
| Is how you stumble upon hate
|
| It may’ve been the first of mistakes
|
| When we held on too loosely that opened the gates
|
| Now all of these horses
|
| That you chase around
|
| In the end they are the ones
|
| That always bring you down
|
| This invisible city
|
| Where no one sees nothing
|
| We’re touching faces in the dark
|
| Feelin' pretty is so hard
|
| Now I try not to tell lies
|
| But there’s pressures from inside
|
| So I’ve learned how to compromise
|
| Good people for alibis
|
| But all of these horses
|
| That you chase around
|
| In the end they are the ones
|
| That always bring you down
|
| This invisible city
|
| Where no one sees nothing
|
| We’re touching faces in the dark
|
| Feelin' pretty is so hard |