It's all been thought of way too late,
and now you're stuck covered in all you placed behind you.
It's fading, not leaving,
You'll pray, it was all just another figure eight and maybe you'll
someday collect all the signs,
and please just leave me and I keep saying,
It was all a mistake, it was all another waste of time.
Once you've discovered you've left me far behind.
You're hating all the fine details graved into a postcard,
That's been soaked with rotten wine,
Which said I'll be playing honest 'till I met a girl last night who was stiff and kind of playing,
But in truth it was who kept me waiting.
Down, like a saint who was boarding up his room
But in time you'll see I'm just tasting,
Blood in my bones, as I tiptoe through this wasteland,
and you'll gather praise until you see me wasted.
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