a low-lit sunday back in the country
with nothing left to shake the tails.
across the action bent on distraction
there with thick thorny to tremble down.
let's take this moment to react to ourselves
and make bold last-chosen decisions.
and when it all just explodes in our faces,
we can lay on our floors and just laugh.
a long time fan not pushing the van
across the endless [cassidy miles]??.
but when the gameshark swims full of liquor and sin,
you'll be lucky just to pay the bills.
let's take this time to react to our homes
and take chances left only for children.
without a rope we can not hang ourselves;
we just strangle each other with lies.
and where are all the actors now?
and where do they let smoke sting their eyes
in darken rooms that look just like mine
let's face it; you look like hell.
let's face it; you look like hell.
where do those behind the back smile?
where do they trade punches at night?
holding photographs as bleached out as mine.
let's face it; you look like hell.
let's face it; you look like hell.