- cifra
My mother said to me that I would get in trouble
Our father won't come home, cause he is seeing double
Our windy, endless spring
Your eyes are so misleading
That's when your car pulls up
It's hood is black and gleaming
A little wine
You stole a smile
The earth is wild
You've got no time
Wild in our ways
What will you make it
Heartless to say
Go on pretending
One chance to fall behind the lines that would not let you
Can I believe in how the past is what will catch you
