Your imagination runs wild
|
Sitting on the fence you call your home these days
|
Better take care, you don't ask for help
|
But some day you might need it
|
|
And all the while the leaves turn brown
|
Fall off the trees and are blown around
|
Your feet there's no good pushing them away
|
They'll always come back, just like the fears in your head
|
|
Life, ain't what like it used to be
|
Life, ain't what like it used to be
|
|
So sit on your hands, rattle on your tongue
|
It's a shaking head and sit back on your chair
|
No good wishing it away, but move it all on
|
Right back to haunt you
|
|
And all the while the leaves turn brown
|
Fall off the trees and are blown around
|
Your feet there's no good pushing them away
|
They'll always come back, come right back to haunt you
|
|
Life, ain't what like it used to be
|
Life, ain't what like it used to be
|
Life, ain't what like it used to be
|
Life, ain't what like it used to be
|
|
-----------------
|
Blow The Millennium, Blow
|
Catatonia |