|
I'm leaving here getting out of this place |
|
Leaving here getting out of this place |
|
Only certain kinds of people can take these things |
|
Get up in the morning I'm paying my bills |
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Watching a storm cloud form over the hills |
|
It appears I was waiting for my old self |
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I don't know what I'm made of or where from I came |
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Don't even seem to remember my name |
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Or why the ghost's alive in this cave |
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They say, she's on the run |
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It's over, it's over, it's over, it's over |
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And thought then can turn action |
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And I dig and I dig and I dig and I dig |
|
'Til my head is so sick and so clear |
|
I'm leaving here getting out of this place |
|
Leaving here getting out of this place |
|
Only certain kinds of people can take these things |
|
I'm tired and lost and feeling blown |
|
Running around in a field, just out of my skull |
|
How will I ever find my way home? |
|
Get up in the morning I'm paying my bills |
|
Watching a storm cloud form over the hills |
|
It appears I was talking to my own self |
|
They say she's on the run |
|
It's over, it's over, it's over, it's over |
|
Then thought turns into action |
|
And I dig, and I dig, and I dig, and I dig |
|
'Til my head is so sick and so clear |
|
I'm leaving here getting out of this place |
|
Leaving here getting out of this place |
|
Only certain kinds of people can take these things |
|
I'm tired and lost and feeling blown |
|
Running around in a field, just out of my skull |
|
How will I ever find my way home? |
|
How will I ever find my way home? |
