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Miro
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Ashes
Walking home on my own.
A little bit faded and a little bit jaded.
The light comes from the street lights, it cuts right through my soul.
Find me cross the bridge and leave it burning.
Sometimes the light from the bridge
you burn, lights the way back home.
A story never to be told.
Touch the flames, let the embers die.
Now I lie in the ashes, let the light die out again.
Sometimes the light from the bridge
you burn, lights the way back home.
A story never to be told.
Touch the flames, let the embers die.
Now I lie in the ashes, let the light die out again.
Walking home on my own.
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A little bit faded and a little bit jaded.
The light comes from the street lights, it cuts right through my soul.
Find me cross the bridge and leave it burning.
Sometimes the light from the bridge
you burn, lights the way back home.
A story never to be told.
Touch the flames, let the embers die.
Now I lie in the ashes, let the light die out again.
Sometimes the light from the bridge
you burn, lights the way back home.
A story never to be told.
Touch the flames, let the embers die.
Now I lie in the ashes, let the light die out.
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