Arrowing East in the gathering dusk
Chasing my shade as it races away
Hot intentions hounding my heels
On the last whispered curse of a dying day
I'm a blade in the hand of the Saint of Lost Causes
From a crimson, splintering, lowering sky
A sliver in the vein of the heartland
Alone on the A35
Close my eyes
Count to ten
Will the wind to tell me where to go
But the world
Will not pretend
And wishing will not make it so
Beyond the mainline: the huddled masses
Capillaried into peripheral hamlets
Eddied together on the tides of life
Into pockets of least resistance
Bedtime rituals
Evening habituals
Lie down as lovers
But dream as individuals
Each a living supplicant to Morpheus on high
Lie in the gutter but look to the sky
Close my eyes
Count to ten
Everything changes
Then changes again
Lost Causes Video (MV)
John Ruddy - Lost Causes Lyrics
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Arrowing East in the gathering dusk
Chasing my shade as it races away
Hot intentions hounding my heels
On the last whispered curse of a dying day
I'm a blade in the hand of the Saint of Lost Causes
From a crimson, splintering, lowering sky
A sliver in the vein of the heartland
Alone on the A35
Close my eyes
Count to ten
Will the wind to tell me where to go
But the world
Will not pretend
And wishing will not make it so
Beyond the mainline: the huddled masses
Capillaried into peripheral hamlets
Eddied together on the tides of life
Into pockets of least resistance
Bedtime rituals
Evening habituals
Lie down as lovers
But dream as individuals
Each a living supplicant to Morpheus on high
Lie in the gutter but look to the sky
Close my eyes
Count to ten
Everything changes
Then changes again
Chasing my shade as it races away
Hot intentions hounding my heels
On the last whispered curse of a dying day
I'm a blade in the hand of the Saint of Lost Causes
From a crimson, splintering, lowering sky
A sliver in the vein of the heartland
Alone on the A35
Close my eyes
Count to ten
Will the wind to tell me where to go
But the world
Will not pretend
And wishing will not make it so
Beyond the mainline: the huddled masses
Capillaried into peripheral hamlets
Eddied together on the tides of life
Into pockets of least resistance
Bedtime rituals
Evening habituals
Lie down as lovers
But dream as individuals
Each a living supplicant to Morpheus on high
Lie in the gutter but look to the sky
Close my eyes
Count to ten
Everything changes
Then changes again
Writer: John Ruddy
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid