Here we are with burning skin
Where we've always been
And we
You say life is a dream where we can't say
I pull up your drive and I lay on the
I see you driving away
On some holiday
Just to leave it
December was just too sad,
For her to call a home.
Even
The sun goes down,
And you're still here,
I'm biting my tongue,
And
In time we're all gonna show our age,
like colored birds
A restless sleep
I dreamed a dream the other night
Where I
Just take it nice and easy,
Don't go looking for a
That howling wind, it comes
Knocking on her door.
You know I
Hopeless sons of guns, and tired city wives.
Will get used
She’s a thunderbolt.
With guns & fire,
Two arms full of holes,
And
» More on Patrick Park