this life has been reducednto lemonade and lightsnpretty thoughts on empty road it goesnso smooth the way she liesnhas all the world but no ones eyesnthe feel the sound the floor the forty ouncesnnwe are staging orchestrasnthe band plays on the band plays onnwe are writing fairy talesnthe words are wrong the words are wrongnnnairplanes go bynwe've got 4 more hours til the sunrisenif i could find the words i'd describenni dont need to skip a beat when you're nearbynneverything will stay the same todaynn