| All my hopes and all of my dreams
|
| Everything falling in between
|
| Seems to me that the memories
|
| Mean more to you than they do to me
|
| Through the sky and into your eyes
|
| (And I see everything falling in between)
|
| Sew the lips right into your smile
|
| I’m okay with faking this
|
| I’ll fake everything just to slip your kiss
|
| If I’m a writer, and I’m a poet
|
| I might love you, but never show it
|
| You should forget me, this is a long tour
|
| And I’ll be back but, not in time for
|
| If all we speak is rational thought
|
| Everyday I pray for the sadness
|
| Eyes are black, my throat full of sickness
|
| Then I’ll be listening not for long
|
| Everyday I pray for the sadness
|
| Eyes are black, my throat full of sickness
|
| Words I write, cheap and trite
|
| But they’re drawn on the back of your door
|
| Surrounded by numbers that
|
| Remind of the ones before
|
| All my hopes and all of my dreams
|
| Everything falling in between
|
| Seems to me that the memories
|
| Mean more to you than they do to me
|
| Through the sky and into your eyes
|
| (And I see everything falling in between)
|
| Sew the lips right into your smile
|
| I’m okay with faking this
|
| I’ll fake everything just to slip your kiss
|
| Words I write, cheap and trite
|
| But they’re drawn on the back of your door
|
| Surrounded by numbers that
|
| Remind of the ones before
|
| Words I write, cheap and trite
|
| But they’re drawn on the back of your door
|
| (Lips are cold)
|
| Surrounded by numbers that
|
| Remind of the ones before
|
| (Truth is told) |