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Good morning baby New Year
Its father time
Iâm ticking away
As the clock strikes twelve
And the room starts to spin
You look so lovely
Comatose
As the liquid fire
Burns your throat
A singe
And you're sucked into
A portal once again.
And now Iâm on my way
Gloves off and the battle is done
And now Iâm on my way
Sleep now my lover, lover
Iâm on my way
So what's your excuse for playing god?
Good morning baby New Year
Its father time
Iâm slowly keeping age under my skin
And when the glass begins to empty grains
Iâll remember all the time's ill sing
Over these black and whites
My fingers fight
The epic battle of a melody.
The truth is Iâm scared of me.
And I see things
That no one would ever glimpse
As your eyes roll back
And the real party begins
And I feel things
That Iâm not supposed to feel
As I reassure myself
Iâm nothing but a jewel upon your crown.
So what's your excuse for playing God?
Whatâs your excuse for playingâ¦
And ill dream things
That will never grace the heart
Of the fantastic fiasco âm bred between
And ill fear things
That will end this sleep we love
A sudden shake from this even place
Where ill sit when Iâm alone.
Like a jewel upon your crown
- Album:
- In Medias Res