The Lovesong Writer 作词：Andrew Everding, Robert, Iii Keeley, Timothy Charles Payne, Steven Pedulla, Geoffrey Rickly
Sitting alone in the dark of a stadium He whispers his secrets into a cheap guitar
With the flick of his wrist he turns words into melodies Chords into church bells, fill up the allies Lovers entwine in the heat of the night And by dawn are apart in the shivering silences
We will pretend That it is all just made up
The song that he writes Are too personal He can't play them for anyone
When he's all alone The lovesong writer sings Oh, can anyone hear me now? No one hears at all
So he stumbles through syllables, cut from their sentences Lost letters call to him, deep in the alphabet Please give us meaning
And pose for me now You're the broken heart You're the sigh in the back of the throat
And on the other side You're the queen of spades You're the sound that she makes on her way
There's always a way out There's always a way out
When he's all alone The lovesong writer sings Oh, can anyone hear me now? But no one hears at all
The lovesong writer sits All alone When he hears the sound
Of the knock at the door
Fifty red roses falling apart In the hands of someone that you scraped in and left behind All of the others strolled up and now showed up at your door Staring you down, they said
Sing for me, sing for me, sing for me now Sing for me, sing for me, sing for me now