Haste The Rescued Letras:
The smokestacks breathe like spitting out the
truth. White lines disguised as fuel consumed.
Under gray-blue skies we're simple machines, marks
matched with greatness but tempting fate. Lines,
faces, are drawn in the sand. It's better not to
understand and turn your back on the city. Wine,
it tastes like it did yesterday and finally you've
found a way of turning your back on everything.
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Don't ever swing on three and two. Finding safe
escape routes and saying the right things. The
choice you make still affects me. We cling to this
tension just to feel anything, leaving flesh for
the effort we've made. Time to embrace. Time won't
erase these guilty looks from your eyes. There is
no disguise good enough to hide lines that are
drawn in the sand. You've finally found a way.
Don't ever, however. Written down in numbers and
measured in waves add up to a sense of
accomplishment.
Letras: The Rescued Haste [final]