Carl Hauck
Nevers
Ain't it getting a little late for your roundabout waysI've worn the prints from my handsDrips become drops, and drops become stainsIf you don't clean 'em up, clean 'em up right awayIn the living room corner thinking, oh LordIt's been over seventeen monthsAnd now I'm grazing the doorknob, tasting lost meals onThe tip of her, the tip of her tongueThinking, honey, I've changedIt just ain't apparentThe sidewalk is watching, hidden under stale leaves thatTear with each sigh of the windYou were never one to blindly believeIn anything, in anyone but meAnd it's a hell of a shameThat you had to bear itYou'd come running out, running out, without your mother's scars in my dreamsYou'd come running out, running out, without your Southern scent in my dreamsYou'd come running out, running out, without your sullen brow in my dreamsYou'd come running out, running out, only to miss me, dear, mmhmmSay what you wantMaybe tact's overrated
Aus Songtexte Mania