A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

STREETS lyrics : "the escapist"

All these walls were never really there,

Nor the ceiling or the chair.


I'm eking weeks of peace at the beach


I see the breezes weave the trees,

These walls, you'll find, are yours and mine


Defined not by them, I


I'm in times that lie behind my eyelids,

The sunset still the rising silence,





(Chorus)

I'll not feel no fear


Cos' I‘m not really here


I'm nowhere near here




There's no rain on roof that grates and beats me


My favourite tree breaking light to pieces

Sprinkling, sharded light on me


Throw a stone as hard as you can


And hearing with hand not here at land

Nothing taxi, dusting sand


My window world spins and twirls,


The walls then fall, I recall the sort

White clouds white wash faded spotless


The weighty shadows, ranges of rocks


The cold is all illusion thought up

Stroll on the shore, snooze and explore


All possibilities in each new morning,


‘til satisfied reaching out, yawning

Fish in a big dish, some rice and spice,


Salt over shoulder, never salted so tight


The truth I have told was silence sometimes

But who's soul does not hide any crimes


Wrapped in walls, encircled by work


The walls fall - the story occurs

No barrier, no boundary or ‘low us ID's


The freedom to stay off straight


Be fiend or friend, cause no harm but charm - the peaceful end




(Chorus x2)




Pale, ancient woods, strew white sandy bays

This ugly room pales away today

I'm swimming in the ocean


I sink slow motion

Fingers, toes, floating


Every year ‘til yesterday

I see the eternal setting sea

I compare all this to me,


It's all fleeting momentary me

I blink my eyes, this is reminding me

Life lies in the blink of an eye


The old die for reasons, new tides for seasons

New life born is like teasing

All these walls were really never there


Nor the ceiling or the chair

I'm eking weeks of peace at the beach

I see the breezes weave the trees

I am not here at all,


You are dearly fooled,

I see bristling trees, the shush at the sea

Mischievous


Fluttering seagulls

No.

I'm not trapped in a box, so I am glancing at rocks

I'm dancing off docks


Since this stance began

That's where I am




(Chorus x2)



So done.

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