Song Length |
3:43 |
Genre |
Rock - Indie/Low-Fi, Rock - Alternative |
Tempo |
Medium (111 - 130) |
Lead Vocal |
Male Vocal |
Language |
English |
Era |
2000 and later |
Lyrics
Desperation.
Now is not the time nor the place,
And these words are mine. (XXX)
When she's done talking the sheets unfold.
When she'd done talking the sheets unfold to the lengths of my arms,
We sigh,
and run for the hills.
We sigh,
and run for the hills.
We sigh,
and run for the hills.
Faux pressure, tell me if you're in-- if you're out.
Salutations are a living hell,
They stir up walls as we stand up, fall, and repeat these words. (XXX)
When she's done talking the sheets unfold.
When she's done talking the sheets unfold to the lengths of my arms.
We sigh,
and run for the hills.
We sigh,
and run for the hills.
We sigh,
and run for the hills.
Faux pressure, tell me if you're in-- if you're out.
Open eyes and curfew send me down to the floor,
I'm breaking hearts here to peices so you can settle the score.
Solitary seconds send me down for the four,
I'm talking tough like I'm Jesus and making out like a whore.
Style's on the line,
She dislikes mine.
And hates the marks that I make on her make up.
Silence takes the air it breaks, and makes a profit rocket from a faux pas fool.
The rocket turns as the rocket burns, and turns another intellect to faux pas fool...