Paroles de Strike

Now I know you can never trust the man With an offer in his hand Even if it's what you planned So we agree to believe in something else Before this quaking world melts I wish it, mostly well In the weeds of a weekend dream you hit On a scheme that seems to fit And I swear, I'm into it IIt's a long ride from the tower where we met Fissioned thin, half-dead Then cracked the ceiling back instead How the reasons turn to backwards When we learn that they're such bastards And you're the kind of match Who wasn't sure that she would catch I'll meet you halfway in between Broadway and any field of green Everyone gets stuck But let's not give a fuck