T h e d a y s
Are getting shorter
and the nights are getting l o n g e r
There's people getting lonely
But there's n o o n e getting stronger
And the Rolling Stone's not what it used to be




Your face on the cover
Like the a c e of fucking spades
A lonely game of solitaire can't seem to ease the pain
of f i v e empty souls
Lost and on the brink of disaster
Some kind of disaster
R e a d y to break us all




There is no r e m e d y
for adolescence and naivety
but blood for tears and

Dead
   
      end
     
          d r e a m s
   
    
The Sunset Strip aint what it used to be




Some voice
echoing off the walls
Like the sound of my g u i t a r
Play louder to drown out the noise
of the world coming d o w n around me




The world
i s c o m i n g d o w n a r o u n d m e
There is no escape from these

Dead
                                    
      end
                                      
          d r e a m s

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