Jon Brion
They Can’t If You Don’t Let Them
If it is true, if you have come to the rescue
Why do the bells sound of danger?
Words of peace, they fall from you freely
Awful free for a stranger
Setting sun, you know you ought to run
There's a wolf here among the sheep
But marching along to the spirit catcher's song
You remain in a dreamless sleep
Desperate eyes
Let the counterfeit suffice
Hoping high
They will be kind to you
Fog and fears and a mouth full of hot tears
Can drown that voice sent to guide you
And wicked tongues with their hooks
And their ice blood
Can wake the demons inside you
Doubt will creep through the windows as you sleep
Setting in like a cold cold front
Your hands go numb and your stomach doubles up
And you think, was I happy once?
Desperate minds
Hold the counterfeit so tight
Hoping high
They will be kind
Hoping high
They will be kind
Hoping high
He will be kind
To you
Run run run run
Run run run run