| Steps ascend to a loaded gun
|
| The scent of matches hangs in the air
|
| (a lit one flickers out in a hearbeat)
|
| We don’t want to see this:
|
| A flash of light that’s letting go
|
| Of an empty bullet case
|
| By the time it hits the ground
|
| He’s out of reach. |
| (let go, let go.)
|
| Out of reach. |
| (let go, let go.)
|
| Out of reach. |
| (let go, let go.)
|
| Out of reach. |
| (let go, let go.)
|
| Out of reach
|
| The wolves are closing in
|
| There’s no room left to make amends, but
|
| Do you remember when we’d fly that kite so high?
|
| All the time we’ve wasted
|
| Spent fighting
|
| Will burn
|
| In the fire of our regrets
|
| All the time we’ve wasted
|
| Spent fighting
|
| It’s blood
|
| And it’s running down the stairs
|
| Freeze the frame
|
| Between the gun shot and the hole it makes
|
| A spinning bullet hangs in the middle
|
| There’s no way to stop it
|
| It will surely hit the mark
|
| You can try to understand
|
| But I’m giving up
|
| Giving up
|
| Giving up
|
| The synapse fires, it’s right in time
|
| I’m giving up
|
| Giving up
|
| Giving up
|
| This should always stay
|
| Out of reach. |
| (let go, let go.)
|
| Out of reach. |
| (let go, let go.)
|
| Out of reach. |
| (let go, let go.)
|
| Out of reach. |
| (let go, let go.)
|
| The wolves are closing in
|
| There’s no room left to make amends, but
|
| Do you remember when we’d fly that kite so high?
|
| All the time we’ve wasted
|
| Spent fighting
|
| Will burn
|
| In the fire of our regrets
|
| All the time we’ve wasted
|
| Spent fighting
|
| It’s blood
|
| And it’s running down the stairs
|
| I ran down the stairs
|
| And into the garden
|
| Put both my hands into the soil
|
| In the spring
|
| You will bloom
|
| Like her heart
|
| Through the blouse
|
| In the back of the ambulance
|
| As it turned and turned down the street
|
| (one more turn won’t you come back to me?)
|
| As it turned on its red lights
|
| You were turning into
|
| Red roses
|
| Red roses
|
| Red roses
|
| Red roses
|
| But I’m not giving up |