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Schnell Fenster Sound Of Trees Lamplight She's trying to find the pieces To put it back together Chained to late nights A-huh, take aways, and caffiene In a pokey little room there She's sitting with a vacant stare Cigarette butts lie everywhere Its a wet October nightmare Ah, she's locked up her heart Locked up her mind, locked up her soul And left the key behind Say that you won't but you do Like a moth to a flame, yeah Make up your mind Give it some time You might wake up and find I'm not the waiting kind Say that you won't, but you do And somewhere in the dense smoke The fragments fly, her eyes are wet But her throat is dry, and her backlit head Heaves a heavy sigh udner the lamplight We share the same secret Like a private sun, sunset Sad and beautiful, but yet Fading like the twilight And through the rhododendrons Like a portrait painter over She watches and she waits, a-hah Waiting by the lamplight Ah, she likes to be loved Loves to be liked, but she doesn't care Just as long as somebody is there Say that she won't but she do Like a moth to a flame yeah Make up your mind, give it some time You might wake up and find I'm not the waiting kind Say that you won't, but you do Staccato of her knuckles on the table top. It's a syncopated rhythym to the clock's tick-tock She looks a stunned mullet in a state of shock Under the lamplight Under the lamplight [x3] |
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