Texty:
No Use For A Name The Feel Good Record Of The Year

castles for the future (A Trojan horse is at the gate) Built by the enemy that we made It's false sincerity, we hear celebrities "Buy a hybrid if you

everyone is singing it and waiting for the applause They don't think about you when the payments keep on coming But only to use you for a way To make

door is open waiting to be closed And it's warm in this little room But December is so cold Waking to a nightmare Passing out and hoping for a dream

drank myself into an idiot all through the night Recounting all my paranoid and selfish thoughts but I was right I made a space for you inside my soul And let my feelings

I hope someday that we can sit and talk above the surface For now I'm drowning in a sea of you The irony of alcohol and this conversation piece Is exactly

On a morning in November you were blinded by the sun In your place that makes you feel so safe from everyone You're totally oblivious to world poverty

up the elevator to floor sixty-three A metaphor? Yes that is right I still cannot be free On the roof I start to realize I may not have a hope at least

up the elevator to floor sixty-three A metaphor? Yes that is right I still cannot be free On the roof I start to realize I may not have a hope at least

live out on the road In the next five years I'm going to guess The less we see the beauty, the more we see this mess In your room you see a painting