A little after twelve The function suite was full Of people I had never seen before Ripped up ticket stubs Confettied on the floor It dawned on me I'd seen it all before
Cool your beans my son You look a fucking mess No one's getting out of here tonight Hit that button there The one that just says wrong And we'll lose our minds to all our favourite songs
Throw forward to later You look light on your feet When you whirled in the room I was nailed to my seat I'm like a prisoner Getting ready to talk I feel the blood in my hands And the threat in your walk
And suddenly It lifts the roof off the place It puts a vault in my step And a grin on my face It can't contain me But you'll need an army To get me back in my box Or snap the branches off me
A little after four The function suite is dead And I am just a ripped up ticket stub But here's a helping hand A voice that's far too close And I am up and on my broken limbs
Throw forward to later You look light on your feet When you whirled in the room I was nailed to my seat I'm like a prisoner Getting ready to talk I feel the blood in my hands And the threat in your walk
And suddenly It lifts the roof off the place It puts a vault in my step And a grin on my face It can't contain me But you'll need an army To get me back in my box Or snap the branches off me
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Compositores: Gary John Lightbody (G L B Ridiculous) (PRS), Jonathan Graham Quinn (Clap Thunder) (PRS), Nathan Connolly (Snow Patrol) (PRS), Paul Wilson (Snow Patrol) (PRS), Tom Simpson (Snow Patrol) (PRS)Editor: Universal Music Publishing Bl Limited (PRS)ECAD verificado obra #3054271 em 07/Abr/2024 com dados da UBEM