Tekstovi: Molly Thomason. Little Bones.

I burned a phone book last night
And watched the town go up in flames
I thought of people I won't meet
As the breeze took away the faceless names

Everything is moving way too fast
When did the skeletons in my closet become
The ghosts of my past?

Little bones turn to dust and
I could swear that the clock faces were mocking us
Everyday people walk these streets
Never guessing that there's stories beneath their feet

I walk a fine dotted line between witty and insecure
And you hold your head high
And drag your confidence across the floor

What an odd pair we make
'Cause your looks'd make time stop
And mine would make it do a double take

But unfortunately little bones turn to dust and
I could swear that the clock faces were mocking us
Everyday people walk these streets
Never guessing that there's stories beneath their feet

Little bones turn to dust and
I could swear that the clock faces were mocking us
Everyday people walk these streets
Never guessing that there's stories beneath their feet