8-Ball

Gazpacho

Compositor: Não Disponível

If you're off to break a promise
Wear the fabric of resolve
There's a thousand ways to make it
And a million more to fold
And how do you tell a creditor
You've never been this poor
Eerily familiar
As hes knocking at your door

Hesitant waltz
Tumble & turn
On the life slide
Chance on your side
Dotting the line
Sign, and the joke is on you now
Master of clowns
The fading trace
Of who you are

Your idea
And now you wish upon a star
Your idea
Your idea

Beneath the blue horizon
Where the night and dreams collide
The bottle that you drank from
Held the corpse of father time
When you spill the ink
You start to settle all your debts
The failures going to haunt you
In the vacuum of intent

Your idea

Fall to the ground
Murder the joke
Not the crowned clown
Dancing around
Your finest suit
Can't hide the truth

Your idea

This spectre charged
The empty room

Your idea

Now is never
Nothing lingers
Don't you feel
The noose is tightening

Your idea

The magic ball
Awake in the dark

Your idea

But now the answers fading