Woorden: Playing With Matches. Silver Trays.

I love the sounds of the nightlife. Opportunities like this surface only once or twice. I'll sleep on sofas every night and live life knee deep in poverty but Ramen noodles they will suffice. my hungry is it's own reward.
The only tragedy's when these impulses are ignored.
When everything's served on silver trays...if you have to earn it it's not worth it. The exit door' s paid for and inches away. It makes it hard to say goodbye...
But maybe he's right and I'm provincial, and we're more passion then potential. I'll forfeit risk and adventure. For a future. Fortune five hundred: a steady pension and tenure! A sense ambition is everything I lack; all that's left for me to do is now is pack a bag.
When everything's served on silver trays...if you have to earn it it's not worth it. The exit door' s paid for and inches away. It makes it hard to say goodbye...
And now there's one last chance to break you're heart then nothing left to say as I cash in my chips and head on the plane.
So I'll make two stops before I depart. I've got to tell him I quit, and there's one last chance to break you're heart then nothing left to say as I cash in my chips and head on the plane. (When everything's served on silver trays...if you have to earn it it's not worth it. The exit door' s paid for and inches away. It makes it hard to say goodbye...)

(Thanks to Tara for these lyrics)