- cifra
I can't hide it,
so good to be here.
Lost in transit,
out on a free year.
There's no truth,
eyeing me sideways.
Just a telephone booth,
on a highway.
I ain't hiding,
there's been no breakdown.
Where I'm aiming,
I see the sundown.
One horizon,
eyeing me sideways.
Just a telephone booth,
on a highway.
Everything for miles,
is high on the silence.
Everything's my way.
Where I'm calling,
there's no religion.
No-one falling,
my absolution.
Is all truth,
eyeing me sideways.
In a telephone booth,
On a highway.
I stand ready,
for any new direction.
That the sun may lead me down.
Everything for miles,
is high on the silence.
Everything's my way.
In a telephone booth,
On a highway.
