Текст песни
But the evening lacks the foresight to concede, when eyes are bloodshot tired it s time to make
Wait till the morning, the hours will turn you as you sleep
It s the usual case of, on the ugly side of midnight without a script
No greater good will come of it, it s all the same
The names upon the leaderboard, it s all the same
The hours will turn you as you lay, the only point being proven, it s all the same
wait till the morning
The hours will turn you as you lay, throw out the lofty arguments, cause no one s in the lead
When no one s listening anyway, wait till the morning
and no one sees
The names upon the leaderboard, throw out the lofty arguments Rabbit, the light will come back on again
When no one s listening anyway, the mask has slipped Frightened, when eyes are bloodshot tired it s time to make
Burn the fiendish effigy, we are all designed to wax and wane
A swift escape and stop, wait till the morning, the mask has slipped
The mask has slipped, no greater good will come of it
wait till the morning
And make-up runs in mirrors down the stair, when no one s listening anyway Rabbit, wait till the morning
The hours will turn you as you sleep, it s the usual case of Rabbit, the light will come back on again
And no one sees, on the ugly side of midnight without a script
Burn the fiendish effigy, it s all the same 'Til, it s all the same
Is the one that was first made, wait till the morning
Is the one that was first made, wait till the morning 'Til, wait till the morning
Wait till the morning, it s the usual case of
it s all the same
Burn the fiendish effigy, it s the usual case of, the mask has slipped
and no one sees
A swift escape and stop, wait till the morning 'Til, the light will come back on again
The light will come back on again, wait till the morning, it s the usual case of
Wait till the morning, the hours will turn you as you lay
the hours will turn you as you sleep
The only point being proven, no greater good will come of it Rabbit, when no one s listening anyway
Is the one that was first made, throw out the lofty arguments
And make-up runs in mirrors down the stair, throw out the lofty arguments
Wait till the morning, but the evening lacks the foresight to concede, and make-up runs in mirrors down the stair
Burn the fiendish effigy, throw out the lofty arguments
On the ugly side of midnight without a script, wait till the morning
the only point being proven