Fortunately, I've got enough to realize This is growing old. The promises, you saw the shallow footsteps in the snow That you would cover up. Continuously, I have seen the centuries in your eyes
Now I'm growing up, the swerve that rocks your boat Leaves no buckets in the shroud. You want show in all You need show in all. I'm wound down by it all. I'm wound down by it all. Take my innocent relieve, take my shattered unappease I'm going down.
In Compton got on dying, if he is not already long dead The only place for languages, the remnants of these bandages That we've (???) while they're wrapped around my head The subtle tulip thread that's filling me Is deep in it's capillary Fortunately, I've got enough to realize This is growing old. This is growing old.
I'm wound down by it all. I'm wound down by it all. Take my innocent relieve, take my shattered unappease I'm going down.