He said it's time for the now
Is it time?
It's a bet I disbelieve

And the worst
The sad stroke
And the crowd
And the smoke
They may be twenty three

Breath-bated gnawing
Was barely worth drawing
Cause I made up my misses
But you'll always be the man who breaks things

Since when does soul of the song
Does the cracks in the wall
Then build a sadder world?
Do the meek, dirty friends
Will they see with a glimpse
And come and soften her?

Breath-bated gnawing
Was barely worth drawing
Cause I made up my missive
But you'll always be the man who breaks things

Copyright: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., ROUGH TRADE PUBLISHING
Writer(s): Elizabeth Powell