Matt Berninger 5p2k11

    Matt Berninger

    Holes 422k2q

    Matt Berninger 5p2k11


    Time, all the long red lines
    That take control
    Of all the smoke like streams
    That flow into your dreams
    That big blue open sea
    That can't be crossed
    That can't be climbed
    Just born between
    Oh, the two white lines
    Distant gods and faded signs
    Of all those blinking lights (here it comes)
    You had to pick the one tonight

    Holes, dug by little moles
    Angry, jealous spies
    Got telephones for eyes
    Come to you as Friends
    All those endless ends
    That can't be tied
    Oh, they make me laugh
    And always make me Cry
    'Til they drop like flies
    And sink like polished stones
    Of all the stones I throw
    How does, how does that old song go
    How does that old song go

    Bands, those funny little plans
    That never work quite right

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