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Run it's the Kid
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The Big Parachute
to choose
to win or to loose
to sleep and to snooze
and to furnish
the excuse
the hats and the boots
the big parachutes
and the whistlin'
of storms
of prose and of poems
of trees and of thorns
and of ceilings
for faith
for love and for hatred
for knives and for plates
and for pretending
to fall
and curse at the wall
and swear that its all
just some lookalike
and to groan
to scream and to moan
and strive to disown
all the little lies
that you told
for silver for gold
to squeeze and to hold
and to throw around
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at the crowd
who all speak aloud
who say the they're proud
and they're all aboard
where are you gong?
why can't you just find me?
for im just some passenger
walking the line
biding my time
for blood
that dripped in the mud
that washed in the flood
of the season
and to shun
to hide and to run
to do whats been done
over
where are you going?
why can't you just find me?
how could you ever be so far behind?
what are the answers that you didn't tell me?
for im just some passenger
walking the line
biding my time
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