Texty písní Matthew McGinn Winter Eighteen Candles

Eighteen Candles

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All dressed up on a Tuesday,
My head is hanging in my hands.
All around, people just like me,
Trying to understand.

Black and greys across the room,
As the seats start filling up.
All of this feels like a bad, bad dream;
Won't someone wake me up?
I don't believe, October's supposed to feel this cold.
I've never seen, a sky so grey.
Does anyone recall, a time when life was fair?
I miss you, I miss you
Down here.
Took a left on to Main Street,
I'm just following the line.
This parade of cars with their headlights on
On their way to say goodbye.

On your birthday we'll all gather around
Eighteen candles, with no one to blow them out.
If you're watching, if you're listening up there
We miss you.
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