-
Just in case. I will leave my things packed. So I can run away. I cannot trust these voices I don't have a lot of prospects. That can give some kind of peace. There is nothing left to cling to
-
Shoot a dream in your arm. And sleep away. It's not the stuff that kills you. That keeps your life at bay Every crash pulls you in reach. Of a watershed of signal flares. That cover your beach
-
All the good monsters open their eyes. To see the wasteland where the home fires rise. And the people shouting, "Why, why, why?" Do you know what you are?. Do you know what you are? All of the
-
There is a river that washes you clean. There is a tree that marks the places you've been. Blood that was spilled, although not your own. For all of your tears Are the wages for things you've done
-
the last drop of water flows under the bridge. We can stay. 'Til the last drop of water flows under the bridge There are times meant for breaking. And words to ignore. And a bent to our souls. When
-
Oh, my God, look around this place. Your fingers reach around the bone. You set the break and set the tone. Flights of grace and future falls. In present pain, all fools say, "Oh, my God" Oh, my
-
ceiling of the heart. Is where we feel the things. That send us away. To where the blind can see the stars. So do you see the stars. Do you see the stars? Looking for a place to hide. I need a little
-
, still the waters rise. Flowers through asphalt, Diamonds in the pockets of your eyes. Turn your face and hide. I saw a woman with ribbons in her hair. Old and lonely, so beautiful I had to stop and
-
-
. We'll add enough of the world Steal from yourselves. It never felt so good. And feed from their hand's. Confuse by opposites Put into jars. We'll save this earth. Put into jars. Keep safe this earth
-
-
-
-
-
Catch the rain, empty hands. Save the children from their lands. Wash the darkness from their skin. Heroes from the West. We don't know you, we know best. But this is not a test You treat me like
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
of clay. Everybody wants somebody. To be their own piece of clay. . We all talked about Candice. But it's only, only a word, truly. Brother turned on a sister in this cruel, cruel world. That's
-
-
-
-
-