Woorden: Miles Kane. Colour Of The Trap. Invisible.

Sipping on your looks but you drink me in
pass over the flattery again
its hanging heavy on my chest
and its better left invisible for now

confessions are bouncing round my head
so i add them to the archive of things we've never said
i lock them up with all the rest
but its better left invisible for now

if the rope we walk starts wobbling
the river tide feels like its coming in
i lock them up with all the rest
its hanging heavy on my chest

though its tempting to confess
its better left invisible for now

temperature rising
fever is high
i can't see no future
i can't see no sky
my eyes are wide open
and so is my head
i'm praying to someone
get me out of this hell