En tiempos turbios, las olas se encrispan y el mundo particular comienza a fraccionarse. Lo tensado del enlace, nudos y pequeñas grietas. Delante de la convulsión, hay quienes tienden su distensión que es como rocío fresco de la mañana, quienes nunca han mentido de su procedencia ni su ejecución en la vida.
Two jumps in a week, I bet you think that's pretty clever don't you boy.
Flying on your motorcycle, watching all the ground beneath you drop.
You'd kill yourself for recognition; kill yourself to never ever stop.
You broke another mirror; you're turning into something you are not.
Don't leave me high, don't leave me dry
Don't leave me high, don't leave me dry
Drying up in conversation, you will be the one who cannot talk.
All your insides fall to pieces, you just sit there wishing you could still make love
They're the ones who'll hate you when you think you've got the world all sussed out
They're the ones who'll spit at you. You will be the one screaming out.
Don't leave me high, don't leave me dry
Don't leave me high, don't leave me dry
It's the best thing that you've ever had, the best thing that you've ever, ever
had.
It's the best thing that you've ever had; the best thing you've had has gone away.
Don't leave me high, don't leave me dry
Don't leave me high, don't leave me dry
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