Friday Lyrics

Imagine only talking about

The same three subjects

When the day seems long

Cause it's meant for the angels

Sitting across in a crowded room

Figuring out how bad their vices sound out loud

Imagine never looking behind

And holding out a hand for

The same people that your life

Depended on months ago

Taking that which we think is ours

And placing it all atop the rising fire

Who do you think is right?

What do you think is right?

Would you fall face first for these gentle souls?

Where, oh where, does the wind blow?

Where, oh where

Into

The last big Sunday

However much I make

Depends on where the wind blows

Where, oh where

Into