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When it's 4:30 in the morningAnd the vacuum sucks you inThe tell tale trace of guilt upon your faceThe sidewalk feels just like your skinWhen your heart is full of winterAnd your days become like living in a lieAnd the clouds outside your bedroom windowpaneResemble crippled children limping slowly 'cross the skyWhen you grasp at straws like forgotten songsAnd your memory's short but the days are too longEvery dream that you bought seems to slip right through your handsWell, love has got disordersAnd work has got demandsDon't say a wordDon't make a soundJust might be going downAnd when the sun is pounding on the pavementAnd the streets are dripping sexAnd murder gets to sounding like a kind of inner peaceAnd everybody wants to know what's going to happen nextWell, I won't give away the end my little troubadourThough I've been here before and I can't bear to watch the restBut don't you blinkDon't close your eyes or it will pass you byLetras de cancionesThe weight of history is hanging on your chestDon't say a wordDon't make a soundJust might be going downWell, your problem's sticking with youJust like flies up on a strip you crawl inside your headBut it ain't worth the tripYou rearrange the furnitureBut it always looks the sameChrist on a crutch [too late, too much] call it a dayDon't say a wordDon't make a soundJust might be going downCould be you're going down... From Letras Mania