It’s eight in the morning I’m reading the lines on the pavement
I don’t know where the hell last night gone
I came here to listen but you took me straight to hell
and buried me behind the wishing well
Could have been the Firelines
or the fact that I’m scared
Could’ve been the weight outside that caught me unaware?
and buried me with the things I couldn’t share
It’s late in the day and there’re reading my rights at the station
I don’t know to whom these things belong
These things come to try us and test our caution shells
and bury us behind the wishing well
Could have been the Firelines
or the fact that I’m scared
Could’ve been the weight outside that caught me unaware?
and buried me with the things I couldn’t share
Now bury me with the things I wouldn’t share
Firelines
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