: I wish you smelled a little funny Not just funny really bad We could roam the streets forever Just like cats but we?d never stray I sometimes wish
: Listen up and take a minute I need to tell you why I do the things the way I do and weeks are flying by I'm trying to fill a void in my life these
: If I could plant a tree for every time I used to hear you say Life runs through your hands like water Our backyard would be a forest now Sometimes
: When I was little I wanted to be king I built castles in the air but never found my way in For a week I was Rambo but couldn't take the pace Then I
: Only when you're in California You drive along the coast The towns you pass are often ruthless They leave you chasing ghosts Leave you chasing ghosts
: It took a while but now I see My old man worked for the KGB The government found out about His work and had to take him out It took a while but now
: It's in taxis it's on trains In airports hopping planes The silence moving on contains It's in all the in-betweens In the day to day routines In over
: The saddest smile in history How she looked at me The way our lives are passing us by Lie after lie Chorus: Tonight your luck ran out You may scream
: Where I'm from there are no mountains And time is standing still Where I'm from there's barely space left Still they're running up a hill Where I'm
: I'm gonna move to Canada Yeah I've made up my mind Leave everything behind I'll catch a plane and fly away from this rain I'm gonna move to Canada
: Here in the city the measure is frozen Billboards are screaming nothing is real In every small town there's air you can breathe in It's not about the
: You came over Like a midnight appetite Nobody believes me now I ran across and Saw thousand people on my way On my way on my way out One of it, two
: If i had a way to get out of this day If i had a way I'd get out today Man, I would run away, man, I would run Because these walls block out the sun
: I'm Peter Vanderhoelt, I'm 68 years old My doubts and questions have increased I, forty-two years of being a priest I'm at the end of my life I'm not
: Life always dumps something in your lap You're constantly busy redrawing your map You leave behind a fading trail Of images and words that you hope
: Sometimes everything seems awkword and large. Imagine a Wednesday evening in March. Future and past, at the same time. I make use of the night, start
: Your clothes spread out on the floor just like it was before a homerun is a hit I'll never score the hours before the break of dawn are as fragile
: I made the call just too late At the end of may I just thought i could wait For one more day In the time that passed You went down so fast You went
