Foreign Correspondent
JOE CHESTER
Every second is a year,
And every day,
Another ice age,
When your love turns cold.
And life is like erosion,
Reflected in the iris,
Of a time-lapse lens,
When your love turns cold.
Ghostwriter,
She's not your girl anymore,
And you've taken a fall,
A foreign correspondent in your own home.
Every time you made a break,
Hiding the tears,
You couldn't make it stick,
A surrender.
And how you measure all your love,
Advancing and retreating,
Like an ocean,
A surrender.
Ghostwriter,
She's not your girl anymore,
And you've taken a fall,
A foreign correspondent in your own home.
