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Beautiful Small Machines
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The Wretched Sounds of City Cars
I woke up this morning to the wretched sound of city cars
The cheek print on my pillow smelled of aftershave and old guitars
So another day comes through my window creeping
And I'm old enough to know that it's much too late for sleeping
Cameras, cloaks, and daggers guard a heart upon a hidden shelf
But no protection's better than the secret wall you build yourself
And no persuasion, trick, or trade can lead you from your home
Save the hand of love
Even she can't keep you long
I keep lying to myself
And everybody, everybody
I keep lying to myself
And everybody, everybody else
Oh, seduction's like the smoke around my fingertips
You know cigarettes can kill you, but they look good hanging from your lips
And buried deep between the darkness and the dawn
Is where I thought I'd try to keep you 'neath a spell of fire and song
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But I keep lying to myself
And everybody, everybody
I keep lying to myself
And everybody, everybody
I keep lying to myself
And everybody, everybody else
I keep lying to myself
And everybody, everybody else
Everybody, everybody else
I've been lying to myself
You're so far away
Doesn't anybody stay in one place anymore?
You're so far away
Doesn't anybody stay in one place anymore?
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