Hand me my five and dime,
pass me my shirt hung on the line.
I´ll polish up my boots
and then take the first plane stateside I can find.
It´s a handicap to try to see this far,
when this place seems so cramped and small.
In the streets they whisper legends
and it seems that I´m riding for a fall.
I´m leaving,
I´m leaving.
All of my sense is shot,
the streets are like a premonition of a crime.
I wrote without you,
then I took the first plane stateside I could find.
If they could they would´ve stopped me,
they´d say I´m gaping at a dream.
I´m leaving,
I´m leaving.
So I polish up my brand new car,
then take my tunes from door to door.
I try not to see their faces
as I´m dealing out my aces,
the horizon seems so far away.
From a penthouse for a king and queen
I expected more of the stuff of dreams.
If they can they like to get their man
and cut him right down to his knees.
And I´m reeling,
once again I´m leaving.
I´m leaving
and once again I´m leaving.
And I´m leaving,
once again I´m leaving.
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
