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• Artiste: Keepsake
• Titre: American Fights
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And it's all inside your head. Pictures painted perfect, black and red. It's a theme worth fighting for. And all the lines now have been drawn. Arousing questions. No one's getting hurt. You're a patriot of words. And it's cloudy all day and you don't have much to say. A weakened attempt. Taking over. Getting answers. Take a step. Irradicate. A lonesome day of work and sweat and tears and grief and constant running hate. And if I had a dime for every time you cried. Then I would buy you a holiday in Rome. And if I had a chance to buy a piece of time. I'd wake up to a life of crime. A broken jaw. A penny lost. The sounds of shattered bits of glass and stepped on moss. And I know you well. A sour girl, who gave up hopes and dreams of a different world. And I hope you've bought some time because every minute lost is a minute past your prime; time TV gets you through. A lonesome day of work and sweat and tears and grief and thoughts of twenty-two. A pseudo-thought. I'm getting lost. The taste of blood. American fights hurt so much. And I can't believe, you're getting up. The cost of living everywhere it just went up. And if I had a dime for every time you cried. Then I would buy you a holiday in Rome. And if I had a chance to buy a piece of time. I'd wake up to a life of crime