Jon, the Archivist все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

The highway’s dark and quiet / New York is fading in the distance / I hear your name in every silent second / I see your face in every streetlamp
I was not built to be your lover / my heart of iron runs too thick / this is the way the doctor’s made me / they made me broken made me sick
My eyes are bloodshot from the driving / the only kind of pain I feel / I sense your presence in their pulsing / I feel your skin as I grip the wheel
When morning comes I’ll be in Boston / I’ll pull my car up on the beach / I’ll trace your name into the shoreline / I’ll watch it wash into the sea

The dresses you bought me don’t fit anymore / they just sit in stray piles like leaves on the floor / so I hang them like curtains draped over the door / and I twirl on my stage / it’s an act I adore
As you cough in the kitchen I’m starting the show / I imagine the feel of real skin in my clothes / as the crowd files in from the street side below / and you turn on the news, the fifth night in a row
What will my father think of me years from now / will I make him proud / I’ll make you proud / I’ll make you proud
The light from the T.V. it mirrors my shame / as news stories of scandal and war flood my brain / my performance is sound tracked by shouting and flames / and the newsman announces my final charade
The actress retreats for one final bow / and the audience rises and cheers all around / as the mean on the screen screams to tear this wall down / I’m enjoying the fiction I matter somehow
How will I make my father proud years from now / will I make him proud / I’ll make you proud / I’ll make you proud