She knows how to tidy up. She keeps it picture perfect. You won't find one thing out of place. She knows how to stay hush, hush. . She can keep a secret.
Divine intervention so few and far between. Like lightning when it touches to the ground. Answer me the question I'm ready to believe. I hold my breath before I let it out.
Fed up, knocked down. Withdrawn from everything. That once was comfortable. So much for routine. . You're weighted down, sinking. Swimming against the stream.
Across these highways and dead end roads. You wandered down for somewhere now. And you travel lightly, just the air inside was all you'd take. To carry on your way hoping lesser 'til the end.
I met a man named Byron Black. And he carried his life strapped to his back. On a sidewalk in Houston he called home. Crying, "Don't you forget me". He said, "Don't you forget me".
Hands up and don't you make a sound. Shotgun is pointed at me now. It just might blow me away. . So here's all I have, it isn't much but please. All I ask is, let me walk away.
Is this part of the game you play?. Do you try to make me feel this way?. You try to sell me something. That you don't believe. . For you it's easier this way.