They say that outside, the past is not right.
Get on the paint's shades of gold.
The distance kills the gold.
I pray that I will shed this skin when I walk out.
I pray that I will shed this skin when I walk out.
I live behind these downways of mine.
They give me a shade to raise.
I pray that I will shed this skin when I walk out.
I'm leaving town.
I'm leaving town.
I'm leaving town.
