
I’ve felt streets and the pavement burning off the youth from both my feet. I sit around, count the miles, and the sum of it is heavy. I’m hearing strange voices and unsaid, fading days of wasted retrospect It’s too close to call, when there’s been about 2 or 3 different «me» It’s all up in the air, where to mend or tear? Where to start? Where to start? Strange voices and unsaid, fading days of wasted retrospect, in my head. But when you call, it falls away. Every clone and con I have played. And every tone of every shade, turns to one true hue of even grade. I just want run. Run until I find myself with you. But when you call, it falls away. Every clone and con I have played. And every tone of every shade shade, turns to one true hue of even grade.
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