|
Each night I taste the silence |
|
Of the words in my throat |
|
Each day we hide in laughter |
|
When they turn round and float |
|
Do you lie back and think of England |
|
As they shout in your face |
|
Stand up and give them flowers |
|
Mary full of grace |
|
Temper's out of control again |
|
There's an itch in my soul again |
|
If I scratch it I will rest in peace |
|
Each day I'm in the future |
|
Of a net curtaned past |
|
Each day I'm out of pocket |
|
Time didn't last |
|
Each night I wake up smoking |
|
And my eyes start to sting |
|
Wish I could keep them open |
|
When the trees start to sing |
|
Temper's out of control again |
|
There's an itch in my soul again |
|
If I scratch it I will rest in peace |
|
Each night I taste the silence |
|
Of the words in my throat |
|
Each day we hide in laughter |
|
When they turn round and float |
|
Temper's out of control again |
|
There's an itch in my soul again |
|
If I scratch it I will rest in peace |
