| Gone with the grace of a black winged crow
|
| With all the tact of an exit poll
|
| I banked the curve bout the last back road
|
| While you washed your hands in a silver bowl
|
| Didn’t wanna know, that’s the way it goes
|
| Pretty words traced in the dirt
|
| A whisper without weight or worth
|
| Nonsense symbols written on the wall
|
| Read by the light of a mirror ball
|
| A final flat line scrawl, that was all
|
| There’s a hole in the world
|
| I’ve seen it coming for some time
|
| This is how it always ends
|
| Up on the ten o' clock line
|
| There’s a hole in the world
|
| Maybe only a space
|
| For something that’s been waiting
|
| Until I turn my face
|
| Until I turn my face
|
| The leaves recount with a rasping sound
|
| A shadow cast on the autumn ground
|
| It’s a lovely wish, it’s a tender sight
|
| A promise made on shifting light
|
| Bad news from the start but still I gave my heart
|
| There’s a hole in the world
|
| I’ve seen it coming for some time
|
| This is how it always ends
|
| Up on the ten o’clock line
|
| There’s a hole in the world
|
| Maybe only a space
|
| For something that’s been waiting
|
| Until I turn my face
|
| Until I turn my face
|
| I always thought I would start again
|
| But I was so much younger then
|
| Perhaps no more of just the same
|
| But a deeper song with a different name
|
| The last one had its time up on the ten o' clock line
|
| There’s a hole in the world
|
| I’ve seen it coming for some time
|
| This is how it always ends
|
| Up on the ten o’clock line
|
| There’s a hole in the world
|
| I’ve seen it coming for some time
|
| This is how it always ends
|
| Up on the ten o’clock line
|
| There’s a hole in the world
|
| Maybe only a space
|
| For something that’s been waiting
|
| Until I turn my face
|
| Until I turn my face
|
| Until I turn my face |