Me and my big ideas
|
Won't wash away your tears
|
No one else seems to mind
|
That I'm not that kind
|
|
Go get a volunteer
|
We'll pay him well my dear
|
He will see inside your mind
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Because he is that kind
|
|
It's a southern kind of heat
|
The shadows crack and start to creep
|
Conversation drag its feet
|
I wish we'd both been more discreet
|
Like light that it caught between night and day
|
You're stuck between me and my
|
|
Me and my big ideas
|
Won't wash away your tears
|
So many strings to your bow
|
Why not let one go
|
|
Well they love you when you're weak
|
Bet they hate you to see this winning streak
|
It's that thing we call control
|
There's a deep frustration
|
Black thoughts
|
That are stuck between someone's ears
|
Like me and my big idea
|
|
So many strings to your bow
|
Why not let one go
|
|
In a way this dream is over
|
Blown away our four leaf clover
|
|
There's no reason why
|
There's just me and my
|
|
Me and my big ideas
|
Won't wash away your tears
|
No one else seems to mind
|
That I'm not that kind
|
|
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|
Me And My Big Ideas
|
| Roland Orzabal |
