The sun sets every night,
but I hardly see it rise:
It's an endless entrenchment with the same old alibi's.
There's a ship out at sea,
but it won't come in for me:
it's anchor is chained to my Hollywood Disease.
And the night, it rolls on.
You left me long ago,
I think about that day:
I am forever sorry that I wanted you to stay.
After all that was changed,
through this uncertainty:
I'd give anything if you just wouldn't speak to me.
And the night, it rolls on.
Again these story books,
All these haunts and dives:
It's an endless attachment to the road I choose to stride.
I don't know how long,
or how dark this road may be:
I guess I'll keep walking and see what there is to see.
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