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• Artiste: White Lies
• Titre: Finish Line
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Too late He knows you're all back-to-front Your bottom lip shaking Your happiness quakes as it's torn apart Sunday late When you go and get your stuff "What's your is mine" That unpractical line back to bite your arm No, don't leave him anything No letters on the side You've gone over everything Screw-ups and the whys Erase him, his memory A tortured decline Was never your style And it's wild dreams of the start At the finish line Gum peeling apart From each other's lives Too late They all know you hate your jobs Your liminal friends with their plans to ascend Like some holy mob Get it straight A lifeboat's for better hearts Prescription or not There's some morals forgot white-tattoo them on No, don't read him anything No poem, song or line There's virtue in everything But most in all that's quiet An action is meddling A dagger in time Better leave it to dry And it's wild dreams of the start At the finish line Gum peeling apart From each other's lives And it's wild dreams of the start At the finish line Gum peeling apart From each other's lives Wild dreams of the start At the finish line Gum peeling apart From each other's lives Wild dreams of the start At the finish line Gum peeling apart From each other's lives