One more night in Omaha, bus stop just before the dawn, cold winds, followed me somehow.
You're parking lots and shopping malls, rinse my thoughts in alcohol, black clouds rolling over me.
And if there is a line all crossing, no lesson will I learn, even if I'm standing on it, no bridge that I won't burn.
Coming back to where we started, I'm only passing through, I've become a ghost in your garden, fading into view.
I broke my heart with sticks and stones, swore I'm never coming home.
Last words, never written down, been so long since I've been gone, doubt if you'll know me at all downpour, did I make you proud?
And if there is a line all crossing, no lesson will I learn, even if I'm standing on it, no bridge that I won't burn.
Coming back to where we started, I'm only passing through, I've become a ghost in your garden, fading into view.
Day is short and my shadow's long, one more out till which at all sunlight never felt so kind.
And if there is a line all crossing, no lesson will I learn, even if I'm standing on it, no bridge that I won't burn.
Coming back to where we started, I'm only passing through, I've become a ghost in your garden, fading into view.
Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh.
Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh.
Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh.
