| Well I know it’s just a spring haze
|
| But I don’t much like the look of it
|
| And if omens are a godsend like men
|
| Breezing in
|
| Certain these clouds go somewhere
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| Billowing out to somewhere
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| In a single-engine Cessna
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| You say we’ll never make it there
|
| So all we do is circle it
|
| Uh-oh, let go, off on my way
|
| Unseen this eternal wanting
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| Uh-oh, way to go, so I get creamed
|
| Waiting for Sunday to drown
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| Uh-oh, way to go, waiting on Sunday
|
| Waiting on Sunday to land
|
| Uh-oh, way to go, waiting on Sunday
|
| Waiting on Sunday to drown
|
| So I know it’s just a spring haze
|
| But I don’t much like the look of it
|
| And all we do is circle it
|
| And I found out where my edge is
|
| And it bleeds into where you resist
|
| And my only way, way out, is to go
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| So far in
|
| Billowing out to somewhere
|
| Billowing out Luna Riviera
|
| Billowing out to somewhere
|
| Uh-oh, let go, off on my way
|
| Unseen this eternal wanting
|
| Let go, so if I really get creamed
|
| Waiting for Sunday to drown
|
| Waiting on Sunday to drown
|
| Why does it always end up like this?
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| Why does it always end up like this?
|
| Why does it always end up like this?
|
| Let go, uh-oh, off on my way
|
| Unseen this eternal wanting
|
| Let go, way to go, so I get creamed
|
| Waiting on Sunday to drown
|
| Uh-oh, waiting on, waiting on Sunday
|
| Waiting on Sunday to land
|
| Uh-oh, waiting on, waiting on Sunday
|
| Waiting on Sunday to drown
|
| Waiting on Sunday to drown
|
| Waiting on Sunday
|
| Waiting on Sunday to land
|
| Uh-oh, so if I really get creamed
|
| I’m waiting for Sunday to drown |