The night bleeds between my hands
Pack your bags, go away tomorrow
And when you were hurting how I ran, ooh
Four in the morning, short of breath
I don't fly over this city anymore
The streets, the houses and your records in the car
You don't live in this city anymore
The nights are only band-aids on the soul
While I lose myself in your hands
The room is full of pretty lines
But when you were hurting how I ran, ooh
Four in the morning and a broken heart
I don't fly over this city anymore
The streets, the houses and your records in the car
You don't live in this city anymore
The nights are only band-aids on the soul
Maybe now we're just two crumbs on the couch
While you throw me far away
You also throw away a bit of yourself
I don't fly over this city anymore
The streets, the houses and your records in the car
You don't live in this city anymore
The nights are only band-aids on the soul
The nights are only band-aids on the soul
The nights are only band-aids on the soul