Turning away again,
Shutting myself down.
Spinning around again,
Trying to leave this town.
With you at my back,
The cold comfort, vice
Is the only remaining track.
Ensure no cracks in this ice.
And vice is there in the smoke passing across my lips;
Drifting, lifting, floating in the room;
Fogging the memory of your kiss.
Sinking with the truth it will be returning soon.
Yes, vice is there hanging around my mouth…
and clamped tight around my heart.
And vice is there in the liquid burning down my throat.
Taking one more shot, just one more chance,
to drown out your voice.
Melting with the dark gravel timber of every note.
Using each drop as your eraser and your remembrance.
Yes, vice is there spilling into my gut…
and clamped tight around my throat.
Running away again,
Letting myself down.
Starting over again,
Moving on to the next town.