Print

Looking through the news, still gives me the blues.We need more time, I urge you to be patient.It's hard to see what for, for every fire opened you close another door,And four years is a long, long time.Gazing at your picture, you look just like you do on those funny green cardsI bite a laugh a little, too Your mouth is opened wide; your hair is to the sideYour eyes are dull and blind, your mind's a trapped kindBut there's time, there's no quick punch lineLooking through my blues, sure gives me the news.If all you need is love, then why collect such hatred?Not hard to see what forFor every fire opened, you close another doorAnd four years is a long, long timeTwo hundred eight Sunday papersOne thousand, four hundred, sixty one daysHope has changed the picture, from black and white and red to a thousand greys instead.His arms are opened wide, warm family by his sideHis eyes are colour blind, still there's times a troubled kindAnd our climb is in need of a lifelineLooking through our list to-does, still an awful lot to chooseSongtexteIf I'm healing you, or me, let's see ourselves in one anotherIt's not hard to know what forFor every door you open, you fan the flames some moreAnd four years is not a long, long timeTwo hundred eight Sunday papersOne thousand, four hundred, sixty one days, one thousand, four hundred, sixty one days... Aus Songtexte Mania