Falling to the power of lies. I could see, I could tell, I could feel my demise. So much closer to me now more than ever. It's when writing these songs
People love to watch you fall. Stand and receive what's been made for you. When this love affair with power grows stale, like a disenchanted lover. London calling Paris, something
technique's alright. The Devil's coming; he's got his dancing shoes. The people all dancing in pseudo-harmony. They all see nobility and focus on his ballad. Behold his beauty
Looking out, troubled by what I see. Nothing can describe my sheer disapproval. Rising tall like great men do. It's a deed lost with no epic fall. It'
give up his dreams, they provide his escape. The past, the present, the future is deafening. I know you're listening. We are truly on the brink of something beautiful
(Instrumental)
We've got a long way before we work this out. So hold your breath. You cut us short and now we'll never know what it should have been. I hope this pleases
heavy. This was the day I woke up. When we wake we become busy men on borrowed New York time. But I think it's crucial that I tell you that you're beautiful
Your lips, they fell on me. Baby let me down like I knew you would. Conversational tension in the air. It's clear that war has been declared. It's just
And so here I stand, face to face with you once more. But you just stare, cold-faced and blank as I try, like some strange osmosis to get my mind into
much more than I bargained for. And I guess it serves right. I guess all that's beautiful must die. And it's in death I hope you find something within
You make me sick. Whoever thought to let you in my life. All you gave, I give back in a blaze, in a glory, or lack thereof. It's laid to waste. I've had
