| <Wilson, Jonathan> page <Rare Birds> album page |
Living With MyselfI'm living with the fear of God every single dayI'm living with myself, I know not enough of whom I speak I'm living like the Sheriff man patrolling this dirty boulevard Hey, look, these Aviators, man, they completely cover my I'm sailing on the air sometimes And I'm really breathing deep this time But then it comes (comes, comes) That same old nagging feeling I need to do wrong (wrong, wrong) The lies, I start to believe them I'm living with my purest pleasures as my memories I'm living with a mess, I guess, I'll never even clean I'm loving when I slide my hands inside a dirty deck of cards Hey, look, these Aviators, man, they completely cover my I'm sailing on the air sometimes And I'm really breathing deep this time I'm sailing on the air sometimes And I'm really breathing deep this time I know there was a place so long ago Where I could go to find faith and purity But nothing that sweet could ever inspire me These darker thoughts, they are now guiding me So it goes (goes, goes) That same old nagging feeling To do wrong (wrong, wrong) The lies, I start to believe them, oh I'm living with myself, I guess I'm living with myself, I guess I'm living with myself, I guess I'm living with myself, I guess I'm living with myself, I guess I'm living with myself, I guess |