This country is my canvas – I leave paint trails as I go. I’m painting a picture That you can only see from outer space. My bedroom is your sofa, I take my breakfast on the train. I’m tired and I’m dirty, and not a second goes to waste.
I’ll be dead but never dying, and I say that with a smile It’s just my way of trying to be alive.
Well I’ll never get to grey hair And I’ll never be in the black, But I can tell stories that most can hardly dream. Dreaming is a luxury, Like stopping-staring and beauty sleep. I’ll stop when I’m finished, And sleep is for the weak.
Heaven’s in the half-light, and that’s where I reside, A whiskey and a wry smile – I check my vital signs.
And when I’m gone, The worlds revolve, and life goes on, So mark no grave, Forget my name. If the song remains And everybody’s got a drink and a smile, Well, that’s just fine by me.
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Copy to Clipboard: This country is my canvas – I leave paint trails as I go. I’m painting a picture That you can only see from outer space. My bedroom is your sofa, I take my breakfast on the train. I’m tired and I’m dirty, and not a second goes to waste.
I’ll be dead but never dying, and I say that with a smile It’s just my way of trying to be alive.
Well I’ll never get to grey hair And I’ll never be in the black, But I can tell stories that most can hardly dream. Dreaming is a luxury, Like stopping-staring and beauty sleep. I’ll stop when I’m finished, And sleep is for the weak.
Heaven’s in the half-light, and that’s where I reside, A whiskey and a wry smile – I check my vital signs.
And when I’m gone, The worlds revolve, and life goes on, So mark no grave, Forget my name. If the song remains And everybody’s got a drink and a smile, Well, that’s just fine by me.
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