Looking back at the crash site,
I don't see me by the road side.
Well this heart is on wheels tonight,
Straight through the ghettos and without lights.
Now every heart has a blind side,
Where he learns how to improvise.
Well this place is a whorehouse tonight,
Cheaper lovers make expensive wives--
But all of these horses
that you chase around,
In the end they are the ones
that always bring you down.
This invisible city,
Where no one sees nothing.
Where touching faces--In the dark.
Feeling pretty is so hard.
(Solo)
Now all of these voices,
And all of these noises.
With all of their illusions of choices,
They've come to my door with one dozen roses.
The imitation of good thief,
Is how you stumble upon hate.
It may of been the first of mistakes,
When we held on to listening that opened the gates--
But all of these horses
that you chase around,
In the end they are the ones
that always bring you down.
This invisible city,
Where no one sees nothing.
Where touching faces--In the dark.
Feeling pretty is so hard.
(Solo)
Now I try not to tell lies,
But there's pressures from inside.
So I've learned how to compromise,
Good people for alibis
But all of these horses
that you chase around,
In the end they are the ones
that always bring you down.
This invisible city,
Where no one sees nothing.
Where touching faces--In the dark.
Feeling pretty is so hard.