\"Why, so quiet? Oh my, mysterious country singer?\" she asked.
My life, it's a riot climbing barricades in empty streets night.
When I'm down fighting shadows. Twenty-five postcards a box in my room.
Telephone conversations, gas slowly leaking out of heart-shaped balloon.
It's a dangerous game that I'm not if I could keep playing long. It's a dangerous game, it's a fine line and if one step is wrong... have no cards to play and that's why I've got nothing to say,