Dragging dirty derailleurs across the field while you carry my limp body hanging by a thread in your eye
Well the gears are not turning and the wheels are not spinning and you are splitting my hairs with your fears and reprise
You know once there were many, there were plenty of men and now the water is dry so I'm looking to her
And maybe she won't be better, but I'll let her come close and if you ever get bored you can gallop beside
And you know that I know you, and you know me quite well but you are missing the point while you shoot at the mouth
and the blanks that were loaded suspiciously have exploded and the mess and debris will still bury our sound