I know that yesterday is gone and it won't come back to me But I miss it after all it never really lasts as long as we meant for it to be There'll be
Down in a local bar out on the Boulevard The sound of an old guitar Is saving you from sinking It's a long way down, it's a long way Back like you never
We went rolling up the coast til there was no more coast to wander We tried every different road just to see which took us further We were living on the
I made my slow way home Limping on broken bones Out of the thickest pine Across the county lines On to your wooden stairs I know you can repair I know
I lay down, I cant sleep My mind drums on repeat I stare at the ceiling from my side I reach out you're right there But you're lost in the details I wait
A line of strands to mark the trail, No one said it would be easy. I must admit I'd thought the risk was better waged in younger seasons, all these years
From small pins to fiery burns, These are the signals of my dying nerves Singed by the heat of your lines and curves Into a fire that could scorch the
It was the year I crashed my motor bike I think it was the summer I think you whispered When you gonna wake up? When you gonna wake up? Dear Slip these
Even now, I can smell your clothes Freshly from the wash Still hot from the dryer Even now, I can smell your skin As I wrap you in a towel Lay you on
Well I know the trouble when the trouble starts. I know the signals of a straying heart. I know the stirrings of a double-cross. I see suspicions arise
There's things I know I should have mentioned sooner But I didn't know how I'm sorry I lost you I never thought that this could come between us I know
I sit and wonder of your pause What makes you so sure Our sins are not the start Of something holy, divine. I don't like the sound of this No news is
Oversættelse: Dashboard Confessional. Ændre Ending.
: It was the year I crashed my motor bike I think it was the summer I think you whispered when you gonna wake up? when you gonna wake up? dear slip
: I made my slow way home limping on broken bones out of the thickest pine across the county lines on to your wooden stairs I know you can repair I know
: Down in a local bar Out on the Boulevard The sound of an old guitar Is saving you from sinking It's a long way down, It's a long way Back like you
: Well I know the trouble when the trouble starts. I know the signals of a straying heart. I know the stirrings of a double-cross. I see suspicions arise