(fish, steve rothery, mark kelly, pete trewavas, ian mosley) Hotel hobbies padding dawns hollow corridors A typewriter cackles out a stream of memories Drying out a conscience, evicting a nightmare Opening the doors for the dreams to come home We live out lives in private shells Ignore our senses and fool ourselves To thinking that out there there's someone else cares Someone to answer all our prayers, all our prayers... Are we too far gone, are we so irresponsible Have we lost our balls, or do we just not care We're terminal cases that keep talking medicine Pretending the end isn't quite that near We make futile gestures, act to the cameras With our made up faces and pr smiles And when the angel comes down, down to deliver us We'll find out that after all, we're only men of straw But everything is still the same Passing the time passing the blame We carry on in the same old way We'll find out we left it too late one day to say what we meant to say Just when you thought it was safe to go back to the water Those problems seem to arise the ones you never really thought of The feeling you get is similar to something like drowning Out of your mind, you're out of your depth, you should have taken soundings Clutching at straws, we're clutching at straws, we're clutching at straws And if you ever come across us don't give us your sympathy You can buy us a drink and just shake our hands And you'll recognise by the reflection in our eyes that deep down inside we're all one and the same We're clutching at straws We're still drowning Clutching at straws We're still drowning, yeah clutching at straws I'm still drowning We're clutching at straws I'm still drowning Bu döküman AkorMerkezi.com'da yayınlanmıştır. http://www.akormerkezi.com