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Well I used to be a listener |
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There was nothing left to get |
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About what you are |
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And what you haven't been yet |
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Some of them like to tell a story that is long and old |
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And couch it in indifference and the wine that they were sold |
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To get away |
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Well someone's got to tell them that its not deserved |
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Rehearsed or written down |
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By playwrights over time |
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Just picking up on a nerve |
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And some of them got a difference |
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That they reserve for you |
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Well I like them all but |
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I don't trust any of them |
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Well shouldn't you |
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Just get away |
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Well I used to think |
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My freedom was a lot of things |
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I'd give Demanding on my time |
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But I had so much time to give |
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And I used to think that everything |
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Was a knee in what you are |
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But finding out the truth that hurts |
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So I never went that far |
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No I'd always get away |
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Get away, away, away, away, away... |
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It comes down to the fact |
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That I'm now different from the past |
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Demanding all my ideals |
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Its just trying to make them last |
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And some of the things that you say |
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They're ringing home so true |
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I hang my head out of the door |
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And I follow you |
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Yeah I follow you |
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And I get away |
