Tekster: Conor Oberst. Other. That's My Fault.

Short delay, a pair of blues,
little voices mimicing.
It's not so hard to make that sound.
So watch your back
the eyes in march
cut your hair, all joan of arc
the skys your will
they'll find you
and when they do, look at
theres money lenders inside the temple
the circus tigers gonna break your heart
something so wild turned into paper
if I loved you well that's my fault.

Bitch in heat, the alpha male.
Not some thing she'd ever tell
except when she got deathly high,
and out it came like summer rain
and washed the cars and everything
felt clean for just a little while.
Until you phone. We drunk dial.
Well starving children they aint got no mother,
there's pink flamingos living in the mall.
I'd give a fortune to your infomercial
If somebody would just take my call,
take my call.

Hello, patterns in my mind now moving slow.
Sorrow all across the surface road
smoothing out the edges of the stone.
The lights are out where'd everybody go?
Hello?

Erase yourself and you'll be free
and something destroyed by the sea
all we are is coloured sand
so pay the ride, the ferris wheel
smile all that you can feel
there's gratiude for what has been
for it did not happen.

There's money lenders inside the temple
circus tigers gonna break my heart
something so wild turned into paper
if I loved you well thats my fault.
There's money lenders inside the temple
this crystal citys gonna fall apart
when all their power turns into vapour
if I miss you well thats my fault
thats my fault
thats my fault