Moving too slowly, follow the lonely
Down to where the city shakes
And losing direction, losing affection
For the gems and all the fakes
I pull at my shirt and I pull at my shirt
And stare away that distant ache
In another life
Only time disappears
I’m fading like the radio
But the song remains the closest thing to me
A minor discretion to feed the rejection
Of the games the others play
Too many places, painted faces
To figure out a better way
I need a new feature and take a new picture
To hang up high, to hang up high
In another life
Only time disappears
I’m fading like the radio
But that song remains the closest thing to me