There are little devils in my head.
I’m growing old without someone knowing where I’m from.
I wouldn’t exist without you, but now, I’m running dry.
It’s vanished and gone.
Well there must be more than this, I’ve got it all, it’s my own gold.
Still I’m dreaming of trainwrecks in the restless veins of my heart.
No one seems pure hearted.
It’s written in my back pages.
Remember the old days,
Remember the ways where we could go.
Let’s sing like we’re the only ones.
We could change those sparks into flames.
So we could say.
Again, you don’t know where you’re tumbling from.
And it bothers you,
That all those plans are just cobwebs in the restless mind of you.
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