| these things... | |
| these things... | |
| these things... | |
| these things, | |
| these things, | |
| these things, | |
| we believe in aren't what they seem | |
| will we wake from this dream? | |
| and I'll sympathise, with open eyes | |
| I'll bless the skies, you come home | |
| is there any wonder or point to what i do? | |
| I'm skin and bone forever | |
| and you've beaten me black and blue | |
| these strings, | |
| these strings, | |
| these strings, | |
| they relieve me so i can sing | |
| and i play for nothing | |
| and I'll sympathise, with open eyes | |
| I'll bless the sky, you come home | |
| is there any wonder? a point to what i do? | |
| i whisper as loud as london | |
| and it's beatin' me black and blue | |
| and I'll sympathise, with open eyes | |
| I'll bless the skies, you come home | |
| is there any wonder, or point to what i do? | |
| I'm skin and bone forever | |
| and it's beatin' me black and blue | |
| is there any wonder? | |
| girl, you've beaten me black and blue |
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