Against the fallen will,
Negates the need for me,
To try dampen all the glow,
Don't slow down, don't slow down.
With ever changing things,
Denied the rest of it.
If ever you could think to know.
Don't slow down, don't slow down.
The temper, always
Knows that, it's wasted.
The temper,
Means that you dont hold out for,
My sympathy, that isnt me.
I seem to redefine,
Through lack of confidence
So take a hold on what we do.
Don't slow down, don't slow down
Embedded once or twice,
To change what could be mine.
And wait up late to send you home.
Don't slow...
The temper, always
Knows that, it's wasted.
The temper,
Means that you dont hold out for,
My sympathy, that isnt me.
Writer(s): Paul John Townsend, Andrew Iain Bews, Laurence John Hibbit, Colin Iain Doran, Andrew Iain Elliot Gilmour
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