Courrier - Running Right

Текст песни

Blown from the lips of a runaway
Trite is the weight of a farewell
I’ve fallen through the looking glass again
I’m far from, I’m far from home
Leaning on the gale of the storm
I’m facing, I’m facing fire
Fleeing from the pains of running right
Sad are the sorrows of the proud
The words to their own ruin ringing out
Rough is the road of my return
Traveled at the length of some year’s end
I’m far from, I’m far from home
Leaning on the gale of the storm
I’m facing, I’m facing fire
Fleeing from the pains of running right
Running right, running right, running right
Cold as the wind of my last words
Blown from the lips of a runaway
I’m far from, I’m far from home
Leaning on the gale of the storm
I’m facing, I’m facing fire
Fleeing from the pains of running right
Running right, running right, running right