Oh, isn’t it sad the way our happyness just flows? And the way we let it slip away before we let it grow?
Still feels like a carving knife inside me,
Still feels like a carving knife inside me,
cutting it’s way over the way I used to be. Can't help it.
It’s the joy of humming sad songs in days like these.
It’s the joy of humming sad songs in days like these.
Not really thinking about you, but just because
you’re there all the time, in a sort of… absence.
And we dance and dance in the permanence
And we dance and dance in the permanence
of not moving at all. Again we take a rain check.
No road, no concession inviting us to fall,
for we are already down. We wait.
We just wait. Before it’s too late.
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