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The Forecast
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Broken Bottles
We're riding a low
A slow pace where we have to grow up
We're riding a low
Where the blood thins from those long nights
The room spins as I watch you turn
Waiting for the words
We're so sick of being alone
So come over stay longer
Wasting time on
Mistakes we've made
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My eyes will tell you
I haven't slept for days
We're riding a low
A slow pace where we have to crawl home
Were riding a low
Where nothing make us whole
So we'll bend our backs back to the start
And start again
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