Irish Song

If all the streets were water
I'll sail down the rivers
Under the the sheet of flowers
I rest my head on her
Whatever keeps me going
Is stuck inside a dream,
From what I see.

In Los Angeles,
The farther it hurts.
And the last hit breathes?

The old, I do admire
And where it might have been
For you are not allowed to tell me that I've sinned
I'm looking for the good time
To say that I have risen from what I've seen

In Lost Angeles,
The farther it hurts
And the last hit breathes?

All of the weight in the wide hist? of clouds
? away,
turning inside out

There is a feeling that is swallowing
My home every time that I lie in your bed
Don't know what is coming, didn't ask for a thing
Let it go,
I'm here with you
And please do not wait.
To remind me ?

If all the streets were water
I'll sail down the rivers
Under the the sheet of flowers
I rest my head on her
Whatever keeps me going
Is stuck inside a dream,
From what I see.
In Los Angeles