And now I finally see that the further we go we're only treading ground that we already know.
I could write you a song, send you a note, or empty out your trash and buy a bucket full of diamonds but
even the most beautiful of all roses must someday crumble to dust and fade away.
It's a certain tragedy.
So it's on into the lonely nights and all the rest of it.
The empty s***e between me and the sunken walls and feeling someone's hand around my neck
choking away the life that i have left.
And I can finally see that the further I go I'm only treading ground that I don't wanna know.
I'll probably hang upside-down from wooden rafters in my home and look at old photos of you.
So it's on into the lonely nights and all the rest of it.
The empty s***e between me and the sunken walls and feeling someone's hand around my neck
choking away the life that i have left.
I miss the warmth of the summer when we were on our own, but now it's winter and my bones are cold.
And now I finally see that the further we go we're only treading ground that we already know.
I could write you a song, send you a note, or empty out your trash and buy a bucket full of diamonds but
even the most beautiful of all roses must someday crumble to dust and fade away.
It's a certain tragedy.
I could write you a song, send you a note, or empty out your trash and buy a bucket full of diamonds but
even the most beautiful of all roses must someday crumble to dust and fade away.
It's a certain tragedy.
So it's on into the lonely nights and all the rest of it.
The empty s***e between me and the sunken walls and feeling someone's hand around my neck
choking away the life that i have left.
And I can finally see that the further I go I'm only treading ground that I don't wanna know.
I'll probably hang upside-down from wooden rafters in my home and look at old photos of you.
So it's on into the lonely nights and all the rest of it.
The empty s***e between me and the sunken walls and feeling someone's hand around my neck
choking away the life that i have left.
I miss the warmth of the summer when we were on our own, but now it's winter and my bones are cold.
And now I finally see that the further we go we're only treading ground that we already know.
I could write you a song, send you a note, or empty out your trash and buy a bucket full of diamonds but
even the most beautiful of all roses must someday crumble to dust and fade away.
It's a certain tragedy.