These four wheels feel like home to me
|
Enough with living broke at home and bank robberies
|
These faces I see and these fumes I breathe...
|
It's proof enough this is where I want to be
|
These photographs tell a story of their own
|
Two fists, white knuckles on a microphone
|
These highway lines, these miles and miles
|
They breathe
|
|
It's just begun and our broken backs are so cold
|
These four wheels feel like home to me
|
|
These doors close and we're chasing the sky
|
This chaos brews and keeps us alive
|
Why rade the world when the world is mine?
|
Why give up now when all we've got is time?
|
|
Looking through this broken glass, these dreams invade the ceiling
|
They could fall so fast but now we're knee-deep in this shit
|
Oh make it last
|
|
A lifetime of wanting and waiting and deadly persuading
|
The volume's too quiet now
|
These tires' tread mark a special occasion
|
And my ears haven't stopped ringing out
|
As these notes are bellowed they'll rip you apart
|
So let these flat chords just break your heart
|
And who the fuck said we were giving up?
|
Cause it's just begun
|
|
It's just begun and our broken backs are so cold
|
These four wheels feel like home to me
|
And I feel like I never want to go home
|
We could stop the world and we could tear it apart
|
These four wheels feel like home to me
|
They breathe
|
|
-----------------
|
This Repirator
|
The Flatliners |