... and she just might cry,
'cause there's naught but the tears left to give.
It should come as no surprise
that when you bend to dry her eyes
a finger she may take.
There is no reason, no
there's nothing else
but the deep seated emotive force
that's got your black sleeves pumping.
Can we watch?
Where're we a-going
down this lonely road?
A guitar-pick for a compass
and a guilty, guilty load.
Tomorrow never comes
as long as you don't
sleep.
'cause there's naught but the tears left to give.
It should come as no surprise
that when you bend to dry her eyes
a finger she may take.
There is no reason, no
there's nothing else
but the deep seated emotive force
that's got your black sleeves pumping.
Can we watch?
Where're we a-going
down this lonely road?
A guitar-pick for a compass
and a guilty, guilty load.
Tomorrow never comes
as long as you don't
sleep.