-
-
the bad dreams
why think that the hard times are here to stay?
why think that the worst is given away?
am honest, pure and gone to a hypnotist
and the hardest cure is to look at a sun that sets
why reel in the yards of an icicle?
i think of her eyes like a bicycle
you can count on me to mind my own business
drowning dreams from a well of sentiment
the bad dreams are coming again
up straight into me like a house of cards
stacked tight with a whisper into shards
come close and i'll whisper a secret
tell you all lies
tell you all lies
tell you all...tell you all....tell you all....tell you all...
i dress up at night in a jacket down
we goin tonight, we goin to town
you can count on me to mind my own business
drowning dreams from a well of sentiment
the bad dreams are coming again
