Beautiful Small Machines
The Wretched Sound of City Cars
I woke up this morning to the wretched sound of city carsThe cheek print on my pillow smelled of aftershave and old guitarsSo another day comes through my window creepingAnd I'm old enough to know that it's much too late for sleepingCameras, cloaks, and daggers guard a heart upon a hidden shelfBut no protection's better than the secret wall you build yourselfAnd no persuasion, trick, or trade can lead you from your homeSave the hand of loveEven she can't keep you longI keep lying to myselfAnd everybody, everybodyI keep lying to myselfAnd everybody, everybody elseOh, seduction's like the smoke around my fingertipsYou know cigarettes can kill you, but they look good hanging from your lipsAnd buried deep between the darkness and the dawnIs where I thought I'd try to keep you 'neath a spell of fire and songBut I keep lying to myselfAnd everybody, everybodyI keep lying to myselfAnd everybody, everybodyI keep lying to myselfSongtexteAnd everybody, everybody elseI keep lying to myselfAnd everybody, everybody elseEverybody, everybody elseI've been lying to myselfYou're so far awayDoesn't anybody stay in one place anymore?You're so far awayDoesn't anybody stay in one place anymore?
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