No Name #3
I work my heart to the bone.
Your face, it brings it close to home.
I've sent my letters in a bottle.
And turned off my telephone.
Don't think me alive for a minute.
We're all dead men by the end of it.
And I can see how six feet under.
Could work to my benefit.
I'm barely concious on the table.
At night I feel more Cain than Abel.
Not that I'd kill my only brother.
But my hands might not be too stable.
We all sweat in the heat of the day.
Don't mean I got anything to say.
If you want something in common.
Just pretend you're ok.
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Songs of love, love lossed, and whatever happens in between.
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