Such Stories
The rooftop chimneys let out their fumes,
As the hours of the clock take off for a walk
And I fall into the cracks in the road
Where the plants sprout and build their homes
Somewhere the night is calling
The chill was biting my fingers
Somewhere the night is calling
The chill was biting my fingers
Your bells ring me to your church
Have you gone home, or gone somewhere else
And the cowboy in my hair rides against the sun in despair
But I fall, so I get hurt
And the days burn into one
But I fall, so I get hurt
And the days burn into one
I did not write the tale as it is
We seem to've been born with such stories
Can't I just rewrite the play that I'm in?
You might not see me tomorrow
Fireflies in the sky
Floating points in the void
We seem to've been born with such stories
I did not write the tale as it is
You might not see me tomorrow
As the hours of the clock take off for a walk
And I fall into the cracks in the road
Where the plants sprout and build their homes
Somewhere the night is calling
The chill was biting my fingers
Somewhere the night is calling
The chill was biting my fingers
Your bells ring me to your church
Have you gone home, or gone somewhere else
And the cowboy in my hair rides against the sun in despair
But I fall, so I get hurt
And the days burn into one
But I fall, so I get hurt
And the days burn into one
I did not write the tale as it is
We seem to've been born with such stories
Can't I just rewrite the play that I'm in?
You might not see me tomorrow
Fireflies in the sky
Floating points in the void
We seem to've been born with such stories
I did not write the tale as it is
You might not see me tomorrow
Credits
Writer(s): Gian Luca Von Raesfeld, Max Hoffmann, Robin Von Sack, Wolfgang Stammer
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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