| Standing on the edge of the rest of my life
|
| She says, «What are you so afraid of?
|
| What are you so afraid of?»
|
| I’ll drag my heels across this entire town
|
| Let the blood run free, let it flood the streets
|
| Tonight this city drowns, it’s going to drown
|
| (I'm gonna see this path through)
|
| I’ll walk the straight and narrow
|
| ('Til my legs are broken) Because there
|
| Are just a few things in this world
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| I need to see with my own two eyes
|
| To believe
|
| Believing is not seeing
|
| No to me, believing is breathing
|
| (And knowing that each breath won’t) be your last
|
| (Tomorrow) you wake up
|
| And you decide with every glorious mistake
|
| You can erase, you can erase your past
|
| I am a ticking time bomb counting down
|
| With the swelling of my lungs
|
| With the bursting of my lungs
|
| I am the roar of a thousand lions strong
|
| And tonight I sing my song
|
| Tonight it carries on, it carries on
|
| (This all means nothing)
|
| If I never make it back
|
| (I'll retrace every footstep)
|
| Because even if it takes a lifetime to make it back to you
|
| I just need to see you with my own two eyes
|
| To believe, to believe (that this is true)
|
| Believing is not seeing
|
| No to me, believing is breathing
|
| (And knowing that each breath won’t) be your last
|
| (Tomorrow) you wake up
|
| And you decide with every glorious mistake
|
| You can erase, you can erase your past
|
| I’m an open book, dying to be read
|
| With a broken spine and I’m showing thread
|
| And my cover is worn and my pages are torn, torn, torn
|
| And page after page, after page, after page
|
| I’m somehow trying, trying to persuade
|
| That somehow this ending will be okay
|
| But it’s hard to believe everything you read
|
| The cover’s worn and the pages torn
|
| The cover’s worn and the pages torn
|
| The cover’s worn and the pages torn
|
| The cover’s worn…
|
| Open me up and tear me apart
|
| Open me up and tear me apart
|
| Open me up and tear me apart
|
| Open me up and open me, open me up
|
| Believing is not seeing
|
| No to me, believing is breathing
|
| (And knowing that each breath won’t) be your last
|
| (Tomorrow) you wake up
|
| And you decide with every glorious mistake
|
| You can erase, you can erase your past |