umor prsta

ponedjeljak, 29.10.2007.

TV on the Radio

Playhouses

Playhouses
swept away by the river now
confound
sound it out now

Vodka cran in your hand
and whose little girl are you now
Oh, I'd ask for this dance
but I know you play like you don't know how
what your coy smile exposes
a recent memory of when we shit our bed of roses

and I know the moon is shining down
but not for our love
so for who?
so for who?

Beneath the cigarrettes and sugar shit of alchol breath
I can taste the ocean on your tongue
remember when we sat on the side walk
of your old block
against the wall
under the stars
talking about love's meaning
Well, I wasn't dreaming
I meant every word
just to know your demons
do you know mine, babe?
are we wastin time, babe?

playhouses
haunted by
broken spirits
just trying to get high

yeah we chose these cards
but the weather changed
and the river froze and went it thawed
it was runnin backwards and dry now
I suppose it's appropriate to cry now

over wasted time
and naked lies
still get wasted sometimes

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