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Lookin' back at the crash site, I don't see me by the roadside. Well this heart is on wheels tonight, Straight through the ghettos And without lights. Now every heart has a blind side, Where it knows how to improvise, Well this place is a whorehouse tonight, Cheap lovers make expensive wives. But all of these horses That you chase around In the end they are the ones That always bring you down This invisible city Where no one sees nothing We're touching faces in the dark Feelin' pretty is so hard. Now all of these voices And all of these noises With all their illusions of choices They've come to my door With one dozen roses. The imitation of good faith Is how you stumble upon hate, It may have been the first of mistakes When we held on too loosely, And opened the gates. But all of these horses That you chase around In the end they are the ones That always bring you down This invisible city Where no one sees nothing We're touching faces in the dark Feelin' pretty is so hard. Now I try not to tell lies, But there's pressures from inside, So I've learned how to compromise Good people for alibis. But all of these horses That you chase around In the end they are the ones That always bring you down This invisible city Where no one sees nothing We're touching faces in the dark Feelin' pretty is so hard.
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