It's two o'clock your time Midnight mine and I could die to have you here It's two o'clock your time Midnight mine and I could die to have you here Call
Fire burns in the grate The guilt burns in the breast of every prisoner The guilty, the condemned Death is red on their hands The galling chains reminding
Remember when remember You and me in fields of blue and white And I would never take it back The stand-offs and the make-ups On the bench our scene for
Estella steps in silence Her every movement caught Encased in gilded memory Here it comes again Anticipation racing through me Thrilling with emotion
This view has got to change So let's skip town Let's go away Who knows where? Let's quit our jobs today What would we do? Where would we stay? I don'
Here I go against the grain It's time to yet again complain And make some noise Make some noise We've got all our sciences Making our appliances To dull
Counting down, expecting latest, greatest Newest model maybe, hope Wishing, hoping, praying To outdo the Jones' Squalor, impulse, crowding, 'tis the
At daybreak I wait for You Crush softly, come With the brilliance and weight of Jupiter You weaken me as with wounds It's always enough to sound the
Amanda talks about herself Forever and a day she'll have her way Amanda talks about nothing But she'll make you think it's poetry And it's too bad, she
Fourteen hours a day, fourteen days in two weeks A fortnight out to sea, I'm far from home, alright by me Off the coast of Japan, then the Ivory Keys
Cold as the sun on a winter's morning Your resolve still lies shivering A heap of ill sighted plans So you think, so it shall be Dwelling on all that
Amanda talks about herself Forever and a day She'll get her way Amanda talks about nothing But she'll make you think it's poetry It's too bad she's only
Remember when Remember you and me In fields of blue and white And I would never take it back The stand-offs and the make-ups On the bench Our scene for
It's two 'o clock your time, midnight mine And I could die to have you here Call you up, I'm far away Wake you up, but it's ok You don't mind I'm not
Fire burns in the grate The guilt burns in the breast Of every prisoner The guilty, the condemned Death is red on their hands The galling chains reminding
Counting down, expecting Latest, greatest Newest model maybe, hope Wishing, hoping, praying To outdo the Joneses Squalor, impulse, crowding Tis the