Text: The Forecast. Every Gun Makes Its Own Tomb.

Drive, let's get out of this mess
We can fall out into empty streets
And stumble for a place to meet

Stop, stop talking
We have burned too many bridges now
We have to stop to think about

This before we give up
And fall into broken promises that are ten feet deep
And we always seem to sink

We need to be more honest than we ever have
We're sinking deep

Now drink so we can spill more
Secrets from past lives that have never died
And always seem to help us trip and

Fall, fall in love with
With these eyes of mine that cannot lie
For they have never shined this

Bright but we'll keep dancing
Around the truth that we're so scared to spill
So drink up baby, I've had my fill

We need to be more honest than we ever have
We're sinking deep
We need to be more honest than we ever have
We're sinking deep