You made a fortune of your
treasures
All your life bought and sold
But you're so tortured by
your pleasures
That happiness is hard to
hold
So you try to hold the hands
of time
But thats a bad sign
Cause can't you see in the
wink of an eye
You could die, never knowing
why
You're just anothel, lonely
brother
And you're rolling to tomorrow
And there's no confort in your
lover's eye
You're making love to a perfect
disguise
You're so far gone it should
make you cry
It should make you cry, then
you'd realize
You're just another; lonely
brother
Rolling to tomorrow
Marco Giunco |
Work | Basket | Music | Words |