I was more than just a coward, I was handsome too
I felt nothing when your flood came down
Holding fines that made me wonder if the lights were wrong
with my hands that never touched no ground
When your talent is in numbers of the many times you've gone
I could lie, I don't care 'bout forgiving
but sometimes it's just roses die too young
As I'm fencing up the hours in the fields of red
while you think I'm on a loveless straight
In the letters from the lovers in the land gone wrong
explanations always written late
When your talent curse the framing of the crying you heard sung
I could lie, I don't care 'bout what's missing
but sometimes it's just roses die too young
your train of thought is always passing you
with its falling paint, and its broken gears
it's the damn Revelation Blues when you see the path
and you know you won't be the last
oh Lord
oh Lord
I was more than just a terror, I was crying, too
but you showed me in the gust between
that a wind is something broken and its flying paths has no meaning nor a ghost within
When your talent is in hiding that you're feeling is always wrong
I always want to bring you something
but sometimes it's just roses die too young

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