I climbed down a mountain in my dreams a long time ago. And I will tell you a little story, in a voice, so unkind. I can?t lay in your arms, I can?t
I still think 'bout the days driving around with nothing to do but find all the things we never found you were so pretty and we were so young windows
When you?re lost, in an old part of town, got no friends to carry you around, I can here you calling, in the dead of the night, behind a moon bounce,
Filed down coffins in the neighbourhood. A spanish girl walking by the cemetery wood. Five in the pan, we do what we can though it ain't right. A fat
Mescaline in the sun you try so hard to find someone i used to be a hero blood on my saddle fighting every battle i used to be alone you shoot up then
on running We gotta get out of here Before the cops start coming It's the end of the world You know I?ll keep on running We gotta get out of here Before
I loved a girl once and she was very young, every day I wondered what I could have done. Now sh's sitting somewhere where the walls are all white, losing
Junebug, I remember everything. The blue carpeted floors, the tall wooden doors, I held you in my arms. Junebug, I'd burn down a picture of a house,
Desert, mountains, life. We drove out where the winds blew. For what we did those nights, we'd lose what was inside you. I took my parents' car, and
There's a place inside each tear, that you'd shed for me in fear of my knowing all the darkness that you sang to every night. Your pale white, it's dressed
my mind, buildings all around. It?s too late, it?s too late, I ain?t gonna wait around. Honey, I?ll be gone before the nightfall. Polish off some Ballantines
Sugar on the highway, something 'bout he way she moved made it worth my staying there. I might have been a bit abused. Man she was a sweet machine.
