Letra de The Lovesong Writer - Thursday

Sitting alone in the dark of a stadium,
he whispers his secrets into a cheap guitar.
With the flick of his wrist he turns words into melodies,
chords into church bells, fill up the allies.
Lovers entwine in the heat of the night,
and by dawn are apart in the shivering silences.
We will pretend that it's all just made up.

(The songs that he writes)
are too personal,
he cant play them for anyone.

When hes all alone, the love song writer sings,
"Ooooh can anyone, hear me now?"
No one hears him now.
So he stumbles through syllables, cut from their sentences.
Lost letters call to him, deep in the alphabet
"Please give us meaning"

(Pose for me now)
You're the broken heart,
you're the sigh in the back of the throat.
And on the other side,
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you're the queen of spades,
you're the sound that she makes on her way.

Theres always a way out,
theres always a way out.

When hes all alone, the love song writer sings
"Ooooh can anyone, hear me now?"
But no one hears at all.

The love song writer sits all alone,
when he hears the sound of the knock at the door.

(50 red roses, falling apart)
In the hands of someone that you scraped in and left behind.
All of the others strolled up and showed up at your door.
Staring you down, they said:
"Sing for me, sing for me, sing for me now.
Sing for me, sing for me, sing for me now."

We already are.