Crash

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Nick Barnes

Nick Barnes (born 1964) is an English male former track cyclist more »

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Call her honey, like Dad did
Call her baby, like I
Not funny, but laughin'
Not funny, I'm crashin'

Fourteen others, by candle-sight
Fourteen rudders so rippin' up the tide
And the bad wind gives way to another Sunday
To another calibration of all of our fates

You don't have to come up, we don't have to do this now
We don't have to do this here, the munitions of fear
Can carry us for years, and has carried us for years
You don't have to come up here, I have carried this for years

On the corner of 5th & Religion
Struck a deal with no-decision
There's too much love here for lastin'
There's too much space here
We're crashin'

You don't have to come up, we can pass each other by
In those corners of our minds, and so just do nothin' right
But ruminate all night
We carry on for years, we've carried this for years
So what are we doin' here?

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