Текстове на песни: Andrew Belle. All Those Pretty Lights.
the wind blows through your hair
as you're walking people stare
up the block
and down the street
to north kings highway
and there's a beating in my
chest
and it's seeming to suggest
that before this day is through
it might
go my way
so i sit back in my seat
i scribble down something that's
sweet
about a boy, a girl
and endless stretch of scenery
cause it's like
falling to your knees
before a stranger on the street
i did it just the other
day
you should have seen me
oh and i wanna remember this night
and how my
words never
came out right
it's just my patience that keeps
me alive
just
like all those pretty lights
just like all those pretty lights
in the
sky
there's something to be said
about the colors in your head
and how
they mix to form
the perfect shade of sadness
not because of things i've
done
or any of the songs i've sung
it's just the story of our lives
we wish
we had this
and i remember we stayed up
way past you're bedtime
up on the
2nd floor
down by my sliding door
just innocent kids
in a victimless
crime
trapped in a metaphor
hoping for something more
as you're walking people stare
up the block
and down the street
to north kings highway
and there's a beating in my
chest
and it's seeming to suggest
that before this day is through
it might
go my way
so i sit back in my seat
i scribble down something that's
sweet
about a boy, a girl
and endless stretch of scenery
cause it's like
falling to your knees
before a stranger on the street
i did it just the other
day
you should have seen me
oh and i wanna remember this night
and how my
words never
came out right
it's just my patience that keeps
me alive
just
like all those pretty lights
just like all those pretty lights
in the
sky
there's something to be said
about the colors in your head
and how
they mix to form
the perfect shade of sadness
not because of things i've
done
or any of the songs i've sung
it's just the story of our lives
we wish
we had this
and i remember we stayed up
way past you're bedtime
up on the
2nd floor
down by my sliding door
just innocent kids
in a victimless
crime
trapped in a metaphor
hoping for something more
Andrew Belle