| My airbag light’s been on for weeks
|
| And I keep having dreams
|
| Where I go through the windshield but I don’t fix it
|
| Patsy Cline came and sang to me
|
| She told everybody
|
| How she knew she would die soon before she did
|
| I hear her cry on «Faded Love»
|
| The air in August here’s heavy with salt and smoke and stings my lungs
|
| My airbag light’s been on for weeks
|
| And I can feel it mock me
|
| It’s bittersweet like laughter through crooked teeth
|
| I want to move so far from everything
|
| That they could hear my heart beat
|
| And then break as I lay dying in the street
|
| They’ll think the ice cracked at the lake
|
| They’ll think a tire blew out and a car crashed on the interstate
|
| It’s hard to watch you walk away
|
| These aren’t the vultures that were circling just yesterday
|
| It’s hard to watch you walk away
|
| (It's hard to watch you walk away)
|
| Picking at bones, at what’s left of your misery
|
| Whoa-oh, whoa-oh
|
| Whoa-oh, whoa-oh
|
| So when my vocal chords rip
|
| So when my knees give in
|
| So when I bury all of this
|
| Who’s gonna give a shit
|
| If I’m breathing?
|
| It’s hard to watch you walk away
|
| These aren’t vultures that were circling just yesterday
|
| It’s hard to watch you walk away
|
| (It's hard to watch you walk away)
|
| Picking at bones, at what’s left of your misery
|
| Whoa-oh, whoa-oh
|
| My airbag light’s been on for weeks
|
| Whoa-oh, whoa-oh
|
| My airbag light’s been on for weeks |