Lookin' back at the crash site,
I don't see me by the roadside.
Well this heart is on wheels tonight,
Straight through the ghettos
And without lights.
Now every heart has a blind side,
Where it knows how to improvise,
Well this place is a whorehouse tonight,
Cheap 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
We're touching faces in the dark
Feelin' pretty is so hard.
Now all of these voices
And all of these noises
With all their illusions of choices
They've come to my door
With one dozen roses.
The imitation of good faith
Is how you stumble upon hate,
It may have been the first of mistakes
When we held on too loosely,
And 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
We're touching faces in the dark
Feelin' pretty is so hard.
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
We're touching faces in the dark
Feelin' pretty is so hard.
