To the fickle let it drop
We have the power to sustain
Like the motor needs the food
To bring more power to our brain
Now we bought it back
So let me make it clean
Since our mother's gone, it always
Seems to rain -
And the boose, and the friends and the party
Never ends!
No excuse for behavior than no one can defend
We reflect in the quiet
Times inside our heads
And get thanks from our children
Tuck tight sweet leap in their beds
Inside their heads
Trickling water dripping down
Slow like some rivers without a sound
Passed many times since you've been on my side
I'm still here, but I keep you deep inside
With my two hands across the water
With my two feet in the sea
My fear is for my daughters,
But good god will show them me
Take our lambs off to the slaughter,
Take their lives so perfectly
Like your bricks are filled with mortar
Cast your wisdom to the brede
Cracks? in fall lines
Nyc talks to me
Slow like some rivers on our mother's tv
Nyc she speaks to me in tongues
Keeps me to her breast, pumps air into my lungs
With my two hands across the water
With my two feet in the sea
My fear is for my daughters,
But good god will show them me
Take our lambs off to the slaughter,
Take their lives so perfectly
Like your bricks are filled with mortar
Cast your wisdom to the brede
(x2)
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
