So many things you said last night
In your attempt to
Shut down
Tangled up in your machinery
No sound
Just the faceless press
Dear God
I'm doing the best I can
I'm doing the best
Never mind the starting gun
cover's up the curtain's drawn
standing in
He's gone again
Pulls me with him each time
I should ask
You're bathed and crowned
I'm bruised and torn
You're tied and cleaned
I'm
Holding tightly on to something you believe
It's getting harder when
Jasmine's taste grows deeper than the ocean or her dreams
For
Somewhere, sometime I became a part of you
And then in
it's alright
got to tell myself it's alright
everything that I envied
Alison cries on a radio Monday
Lipstick goodbyes and a promise
It's time to brood
Put up the walls of sound
And practice
What are we fighting for
What am I trying to restore
someone's drinking all alone
someone's left the TV on
I don't suppose
no
To T.V. screens and complex books
My inner world of reason
» More on Curt Smith