My friend,
I'm here,
I'm here,
I'm here.
Didn't I say
I would be?
Didn't I say
I would be here?
And now there's so little chance I've escaped,
And now there's so little chance I've escaped,
I've escaped.
Face me,
Face me,
Face me.
I'm getting old,
Face me.
It's growing cold,
Face me,
Face me,
Face me,
Face me,
Face me.
Writer(s): Andrew Turner, Mara Cecilia Carlyle, Edward Handley
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com