I dont feel well, its this old damned cold It wont leave me alone, let me be But its not just that its everything Gotta force myself, gotta force myself to sleep Write it down, write it down, write it down Tell it in a story of the pioneers Not the hunters lookin for their souvenirs Sing me something, make it sound so sweet Tell the whole wide world, make them all believe Dont you believe were spinning right now You speak, I hear, we learn somehow Lines divide, oceans are wide, we come and we go On a painted road, miles behind Aint no particular end to this story In no particular way was it told No preconceived moments of glory It just came as it came Whereabouts unknown ...
particular, write, force, wide, whereabouts