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Heart of Stone Lyrics
How do you get right
with one eye closed so tight
Slipping backwards, falling prey to plastic eyes?
So hard to walk straight
For the style has made you sway
And every cavalry on every strip that bears your name.
Open your eyes, you are standing empty and cold.
Open your mouth if you voice can never be sold.
Burn the bridge down.
Take the long road into town.
Where all the bastards and all the witches mark their ground.
Open your eyes, you are standing empty and cold.
Open your mouth if you voice can never be sold.
I only know that hearts made of stone
Will rarely sail far and may never reach home.
So is a cost to live dead and lost
Searching the stars to find which is ours.
Well in the corners where all the lost souls have been found
Lies a purpose before yourself dead in the ground.
with one eye closed so tight
Slipping backwards, falling prey to plastic eyes?
So hard to walk straight
For the style has made you sway
And every cavalry on every strip that bears your name.
Open your eyes, you are standing empty and cold.
Open your mouth if you voice can never be sold.
Take the long road into town.
Where all the bastards and all the witches mark their ground.
Open your eyes, you are standing empty and cold.
Open your mouth if you voice can never be sold.
Will rarely sail far and may never reach home.
So is a cost to live dead and lost
Searching the stars to find which is ours.
Lies a purpose before yourself dead in the ground.
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From the booklet from Feast Or Famine:
How do you get right? With one eye closed so tight, slipping backwards, falling prey to plastic eyes. So hard to walk straight, for the style has made you sway in every cabaret, on every strip that bears your name. Open your eyes; you are standing empty and cold. Open your mouth if your voice can never be sold. Burn the bridge down. Take the long road into town, where al the bastards and all the witches mark their ground. Open your eyes; you are standing empty and cold. Open your mouth if your voice can never be sold. I only know that hearts made of stone will rarely sail far, and may never reach home. And so is the cost to live dead and lost, searching the stars to find which is ours. Well in the corners, where all the lost souls have been found, there lies a purpose, before yourself dead in the ground.