Harley Benson sings
As he runs from the picture that he painted of himself but
What he doesn’t see,
Is his feet looking forward but his eyes looking backward
And it doesn’t seem, that he’s conscious of himself or the clouds raining down on him
Patterns in the sky
Paint pictures in the clouds and he’s running from the sound that
Keeps him up at night, the swaying of the trees and the washing of the sea
Oh the sea
Time, time
Live your life and hope that it's alright
Right
Nothing left to say except it's fine
Fine
For you to keep on living like a crime
Crime
So ill just wait for you to pass on by
Though his phone don’t ring
He's waiting for the call that might cushion up his fall
And what his friends don’t see, is that he’s going far away to a place they don’t understand
Even when he walks,
He leaves footprints in the sand cuz he isn’t from this land and
He awaits that call
Tell him Harley go back home cuz this place is not for you
Not for you
Time, time
Live your life and hope that it's alright
Right
Nothing left to say except it's fine
Fine
For you to keep on living like a crime
Crime
So ill just sit and wait till you are mine
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