Lookin' back at the crash site,

I don't see me by the roadside.

Well this heart is on wheels tonight,

Straight through the ghettos

And without lights.



Now every heart has a blind side,

Where it knows how to improvise,

Well this place is a whorehouse tonight,

Cheap lovers make expensive wives.



But all of these horses

That you chase around

In the end they are the ones

That always bring you down



This invisible city

Where no one sees nothing

We're touching faces in the dark

Feelin' pretty is so hard.



Now all of these voices

And all of these noises

With all their illusions of choices

They've come to my door

With one dozen roses.



The imitation of good faith

Is how you stumble upon hate,

It may have been the first of mistakes

When we held on too loosely,

and opened the gates.



But all of these horses

That you chase around

In the end they are the ones

That always bring you down



This invisible city

Where no one sees nothing

We're touching faces in the dark

Feelin' pretty is so hard.



Now I try not to tell lies,

But there's pressures from inside,

So I've learned how to compromise

Good people for alibis.



But all of these horses

That you chase around

In the end they are the ones

That always bring you down



This invisible city

Where no one sees nothing

We're touching faces in the dark

Feelin' pretty is so hard