Backroadline

Mid-century grey suit, mono smile, dull expression The imposter on the ledger is stuck in the house His teeth will give him away His suit is still getting pretty gray Wakefield, eternally spin MGMT says "Final one. Roll it up!" Pack and get out while you still can Thus, an expression fades I can barely pan over my eyes They were empty before you and I How in the world can we be ourselves without a little too far gone? An artist made her whole deal with a deck of cards in a collared white shirt, smiling, and proud If I could be there looking down at the impact her meteor made I reflect her sky with my ripple Sun and moonlight flickering on my brow Yes, forever and a lot more of a little of her love To me, that's the only way I can barely pan over my eyes They were empty before you and I How in the world can we be ourselves without a little too far gone? Darling, you wet them. Don't make me dry I could cry at it almost every night I could feel like I will not go on Flat out even when I'm grey Wrong turn, I hit the backroad line Cut the corner out of my mind Get it all out before it gets into more trouble that I can find In your iris there's an apple tree Don't blink, you'll take a bite out of me I could put you in every song, not even close to too far gone Darling you wet them, don't make me dry I could cry at it almost every night Not even close to too far gone