Moving too slowly, follow the lonely Down to where the city shakes And losing direction, losing affection For the gems and all the fakes I pull at my shirt and I pull at my shirt And stare away that distant ache
In another life Only time disappears I’m fading like the radio But the song remains the closest thing to me
A minor discretion to feed the rejection Of the games the others play Too many places, painted faces To figure out a better way I need a new feature and take a new picture To hang up high, to hang up high
In another life Only time disappears I’m fading like the radio But that song remains the closest thing to me