- cifra
Get up, get out
Oh! Oh!
It's all in the way
How a soul pours out the door on the road
I'll get home safe
If only all we raise are the scars and the roof
I'll get home
What men pray for
What men cradle
I run from fate to fatal
I don't want to break a thing
This time is so lost, it's so late
I run all night
Run with the unwanted waste as my poor kin
I'll run on
I'll get upset
I don't want to break a thing
If only all we raise are the scars and the roof
I'll get home
What men pray for
What men cradle
I run from fate to fatal
Get up, get out
Oh! Oh!
It's all in the way
I don't want to break it all
