Story by Nick Moon Lyrics

She saw, a battlefield of words
She knows it's a disaster from the taste
And weakness, first to break a bone
Sitting high above the chaos and the chase

When I get up, when I get down
Dream of lighting and swallow, troubled by the sound
We all think you're so, worthless and loud
But I know, you just need a crowd

This was, all he ever did
Smoking leaves next to the fire on Christmas day
And wait for, creative little minds
Drown the words in sickly sentiment and stay

When you get up, when you get down
You must be more careful, I worry for you now
A heartless dead gesture, sticks to the ground
Believing what you hear won't bring you down

I want to be like this with my hands down low
And when you talk you spit, clever words, control
And I won't be caught, far from home
Because I know you are, suffer, left alone