Pray for them
|
I often loose track
|
So I took a drag
|
of my first cigarrette
|
and I found my head
|
Roll down the dumps
|
of twenty seventh street
|
|
I drew a sketch
|
with lipstick and sidewalk
|
of Newports edge
|
Legoblock cliffs
|
and an ocean that doesn't
|
deserve the sounds of silence
|
I'd swear on a dead artists grave
|
|
I found a spot
|
where the drunk never got to
|
And it rocks me gently silent, silent
|
If I never surface
|
then it doesn't matter
|
Hold my breath
|
It's silent, silent, now
|
|
Diligent
|
Escape by the water
|
Not sick of it
|
It only gets harder
|
That's no excuse
|
to block all the cliches and
|
reason for kicks
|
|
He strokes her hair
|
both sitting on sand
|
and her shoulders bare
|
nothing to demand of them
|
laying back on a lonely stone wall
|
and passersby look passed it all
|
|
I found a spot
|
where the drunk never got to
|
And it rocks me gently silent, silent
|
If I never surface
|
then it doesn't matter
|
Hold my breath
|
It's silent, silent
|
|
[guitar solo]
|
|
I found a spot
|
where the drunk never got to
|
It rocks me gently silent, silent
|
If I never surface
|
then it doesn't matter
|
Hold my breath
|
It's silent, silent, now
|
|
-----------------
|
Santa Barbara
|
| Meg & Dia |
