Night [bad word] quick enough
My faults shine in the sun
train bridge of spies
watches all the cars collide 

I roll my green sleeves [bad word] 
I don't blame you for doing it to me
Real girls don't take aim
like kings do these days 

I made my mind up to be a black-winged bird
Never turn my head for how things were
Leave the bluest skies for boys to burn
And I'll soar on my way
Sad as the state
Of things we can't change

Now we're paper dolls all aflame
In houses that all look the same
Rows of regret
An arson for a wilderness

I hide my saints in the willow [bad word] 
You started me on this junk
Now my black lungs are blue
But I'm still singing to you