Nothing can change if you're spending your nights all alone.
Hit the ground, hit the pavement.
Nothing can wash the worry off your mother's face.
No one can say for certain what tomorrow brings,
is it clean or unworthy?
No, we can't rinse away this taste.
Well, I still love the way you feel. And I still love the way it feels.
Well, I still love the way she feels. Yeah, I still love the way...
Pointing to the moon. Shootin' in the clouds.
Everything I do... Elevated now.
I'm high as skyscrapers.
We're sick.
Well, there's nothing to be missed and while it's cold outside we're biting window frames.
We're sick.
And while there's nothing here to miss.
I know tomorrow brings more pain.
compositores: Matthew Tybor
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