The Streets – The Escapist

The Streets
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исполнитель The Streets

правообладатель Warner Music Group (679 Recordings Ltd)

жанр Поп

длительность 05:17

размер 12.69 MB

битрейт 320 kbps

загружено Warner-Music-Group

The Escapist
05:17
All these walls were never really there, Nor the ceiling or the chair. I'm eking weeks of peace at the beach I see the breezes weave the trees, These walls, you'll find, are yours and mine Defined not by them, I I'm in times that lie behind my eyelids, The sunset still the rising silence, [Chorus] I'll not feel no fear Cos' I'm not really here I'm nowhere near here There's no rain on roof that grates and beats me My favourite tree breaking light to pieces Sprinkling, sharded light on me Throw a stone as hard as you can And hearing with hand not here at land Nothing taxi, dusting sand My window world spins and twirls, The walls then fall, I recall the sort White clouds white wash faded spotless The weighty shadows, ranges of rocks The cold is all illusion thought up Stroll on the shore, snooze and explore All possibilities in each new morning, 'til satisfied reaching out, yawning Fish in a big dish, some rice and spice, Salt over shoulder, never salted so tight The truth I have told was silence sometimes But who's soul does not hide any crimes Wrapped in walls, encircled by work The walls fall - the story occurs No barrier, no boundary or 'low us ID's The freedom to stay off straight Be fiend or friend, cause no harm but charm - the peaceful end [Chorus x2] Pale, ancient woods, strew white sandy bays This ugly room pales away today I'm swimming in the ocean I sink slow motion Fingers, toes, floating Every year 'til yesterday I see the eternal setting sea I compare all this to me, It's all fleeting momentary me I blink my eyes, this is reminding me Life lies in the blink of an eye The old die for reasons, new tides for seasons New life born is like teasing All these walls were really never there Nor the ceiling or the chair I'm eking weeks of peace at the beach I see the breezes weave the trees I am not here at all, You are dearly fooled, I see bristling trees, the shush at the sea Mischievous Fluttering seagulls No. I'm not trapped in a box, so I am glancing at rocks I'm dancing off docks Since this stance began That's where I am [Chorus x2] So done.
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