Too late
He knows you're all back-to-front
Your bottom lip shaking
Your happiness quakes as it's torn apart
Sunday late
When you go and get your stuff
"What's yours is mine"
That unpractical line back to bite your arm
No, don't leave him anything
No letters on the side
You've gone over everything
Screw-ups and the whys
Erase him, his memory
A tortured decline
Was never your style
And it's wild dreams of the start
At the finish line
Gum peeling apart
From each other's lives
Too late
They all know you hate your jobs
Your liminal friends with their plans to ascend
Like some holy mob
Get it straight
A lifeboat's for better hearts
Prescription or not
There's some morals forgot white-tattoo them on
No, don't read him anything
No poem, song or line
There's virtue in everything
But most in all that's quiet
An action is meddling
A dagger in time
Better leave it to dry
And it's wild dreams of the start
At the finish line
Gum peeling apart
From each other's lives
And it's wild dreams of the start
At the finish line
Gum peeling apart
From each other's lives
Wild dreams of the start
At the finish line
Gum peeling apart
From each other's lives
Wild dreams of the start
At the finish line
Gum peeling apart
From each other's lives
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
