Perfect Storm
Night Flowers
Hold the ropes in the middle of the thread
There’s a long way to go, but you didn’t have the mettle
In the middle of the perfect storm
You took to playing dead and it grew cold
Over slopes, over rivers running red
Well the engine rolled over, and you got it in your head
And in the middle of the motorway
You took to playing dead and it grew cold
And in the middle of the motorway you took to playing dead
And in the middle of the motorway you took to playing dead
And in the middle of the motorway you took to playing dead it grew cold
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