Musikvideo

Vorgestellt in

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Jaime Alberto Preciado
Jaime Alberto Preciado
Bass Guitar
Mike Fuentes
Mike Fuentes
Drums
Tony Perry
Tony Perry
Lead Guitar
Victor Vincent Fuentes
Victor Vincent Fuentes
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Victor Vincent Fuentes
Victor Vincent Fuentes
Songwriter
Mike Fuentes
Mike Fuentes
Songwriter
Jaime Alberto Preciado
Jaime Alberto Preciado
Songwriter
Tony Perry
Tony Perry
Songwriter
Kohn Klemmer
Kohn Klemmer
Songwriter
Stefan Kendal Gordy
Stefan Kendal Gordy
Composer
S. Gordy
S. Gordy
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Dan Korneff
Dan Korneff
Mixing Engineer
Alex Prieto
Alex Prieto
Engineer
Jim Romano
Jim Romano
Editing Engineer
Nick Sferlazza
Nick Sferlazza
Assistant Engineer
Ted Jensen
Ted Jensen
Mastering Engineer

Songtexte

She paints in grey And she closes her eyes 'Til fireworks and palm trees almost look alike She looks up to me and whispers "I won't be here in a year" So I take the long road to think and wonder why I can't sleep with all this sunlight If there's still evidence of us Why can't that be enough? I don't mean to drag you down You taste just like you always do Isabelle hides, so I can't find my way I'd give anything just to surround your dreams The envy of the dead The sound of scissors and sleep I can't believe you dreamed And pulled all of your clothes off You're not supposed to drink With what's inside your purse And not expect me to not to call (call you out) I'm guiding your chin to my lips Using only my fingertips All we have are parking lots and nowhere to go If you love me, then show me more Isabelle watches me from far away I'd give anything just to surround your dreams I know you like when the temperature rises to a boiling heat The chlorine and wine found He sees through her nightgown And everything fades away The stars awake But we can't see them out So why pretend? Is there a train that travels back to yours at 5 a.m.? Or are we walking? Car alarms and leaves that blow They're calling out our names But it's gone too far Your butane mouth will spit me into flames Sorry 'bout it, I can't help it I'm an anarchist in love And I forgot to call you I can't break you down While I think about honey and the sweet New York sounds Isabelle hides, so I can't find my way I'd give anything to carry on and on and on the same way The temperature rises to this boiling heat The chlorine and wine found He sees through her nightgown As Saturday burns away Back in the days, when I was young I'm not a kid anymore But some days I sit and wish I was a kid again Back in the days when I was young I'm not a kid anymore But some days I sit and wish I was a kid again
Writer(s): Ahmad A. Lewis, John Klemmer, Stefan Kendal Gordy, Victor Vincent Fuentes, Michael Fuentes Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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