it's all forgiven when you stain my dreams with blood, water, and wine. the heart can teach what they don't preach, that today is all you have. so steal a
't breathe when we're tied in knots, so you're stealing my breath before i have a chance to scream. was there a reason to this? all my hopes played a
drop me a line and we'll cut and paste time for our memory collage. but you leave me swinging like a marionette. if you turn around, will i write you
because it wastes me away tonight. we try to fill the empty space between all the lies unbecoming of us. the subtle hints of your deceit like a shouted
you walk like a saint through your smile is a train wreck, but it's the silence that does me in, this friction causes static that shocks whatever you
reason to scream at them. i can build my own frame, i can mold my own life, it was all just a memory of you. i can remember. it\'s just a faint reminder
well of sighs All their pain bears their name Ignorance dies by its own lies Tears of indignation Crying under Apollyon's sun In faith for love Underground, a
The last day will come Beneath a dying sun Turning into black Rising of the dead The dying has begun Beneath a dying sun
hurts like brand new shoes There is a woman in Somalia There is a woman in Rwanda There is a woman in Tibet There is a woman in a Congo And she hurts
a drop of dew She don't come and I don't follow Waits backstage while I sing to you Well, she can dance a Cajun rhythm Jump like a willys in four wheel
in a drop of dew She don't come and I don't follow Waits backstage while I sing to you She can dance a Cajun rhythm Jump like a willys in four wheel
a woman in Somalia Scraping for pearls on the roadside There's a force stronger than nature Keeps her will alive This is how she's dying She's dying
dying day I'd walk the aisle a million miles to see you smile I wanna know how it feels to believe in something Ride on the heels of a good thing coming
me of yours And in a story told she was a little girl In a red-rouge, sun-bruised field And there were rows of ripe tomatoes Where a secret was concealed
reminded me of yours. In a story told she was a little girl in a red-rouge, sun-bruised field and there were rows of ripe tomatoes where a secret
strong as ever, never let my eyes close DEVLIN 5 o'clock with lights off interview with a vampire sleep is for the living and not a utensil that I require
