City Colour Boiled Frogs
Boiled Frogs must be more to my life Poor little tin man, still swinging his axe Even though his joints are clogged with rust My youth is slipping, my youth is slipping away Safe in monotony, day after day My youth is slipping, my youth is slipping away cold wind blows off the lake and I know for sure that its too late So wait up I m not sleeping alone again tonight There s so much to dream about, there must be more to my life So wait up I m not sleeping alone again tonight Between the light and shallow waves is where I m going to die Wait up for me Wait up for me Wait up for me
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