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Make a cup with your hands to take a drink |
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In the same way that your father did |
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And throw a stone upon the river's lid |
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Watch the circles take you home |
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Blow the smoke and watch it leave your lungs |
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And high or not, think of what you've done |
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Have you not considered life beneath the thumb? |
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Or flying solo in your home? |
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'Cause sometimes it's who, not what you do |
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Just because your father did doesn't mean that you should too |
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I don't want to lose you |
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Don't go away from here |
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It's that sinking feeling of being alone |
|
And it's the way it makes you screech |
|
And pulls the skin off your bones |
|
And I can't help but think, as I pick my mouth off the floor; |
|
Will you still know me in a year? |
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Don't you think about your actions? |
|
Counter-weight dire reactions? |
|
Zero soul, you're a loser's son |
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But don't you go away from here |
|
Your mind's a mine-field in a minor way |
|
Don't just fall in like some mindless stray |
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"We're your friends, you see" is what they say |
|
Don't you go away from here |
|
Yeah, it's that sinking feeling of being alone |
|
And it's the way it makes you screech |
|
And pulls the skin off your bones |
|
And I can't help but think, as I pick my mouth off the floor; |
|
Will you still know me in a year? |
|
It's that sinking feeling of being alone |
|
And it's the way it makes you screech |
|
And pulls the skin off your bones |
|
And I can't help but think, as I pick my mouth off the floor; |
|
Will you still know me in a year? |
|
Yeah, it's that sinking feeling of being alone |
|
And it's the way it makes you screech |
|
And peels the skin off your bones |
|
And I can't help but think, as I pick my mouth off the floor; |
|
Will you still know me in a year? |
