Lyrics of 'Glass Gloss' by Ocean Grove
Glass Gloss is a song by Ocean Grove whose lyrics have countless searches, so we decided it deserves its place on this website, along with many other song lyrics that internet users want to know.
If you've been searching for the lyrics of the song Glass Gloss by Ocean Grove for a long time, start warming up your voice, because you won't be able to stop singing it.
I’m starting to believe it’s a little, what?
Sleeping with your bag in the back of a cab
I’m starting to believe it’s a little, what?
I could really feel my bones on fire
I’m starting to believe it’s a little, what?
Another day I nearly sold my soul for nada
I’m starting to believe it’s a little, what?
I said I’m starting to believe it’s a little
I’m starting to believe it’s a little heinous
The progress we’re making has taken my patience
If we could find another way to make it work
Or a different path I’d be down to take it
See that world that you’re making?
Hold my beer while I shake it
Those along for the ride know that the pleasure was mine
And I know my way out, I know my way
And I know my way out
Don’t forget that I’m real, not another weapon of mass appeal
It’s time to turn off
(My supernova windowsill, my supernova windowsill)
You must forget that I’m real, reciprocate the hands that I deal
It’s time to jump off
(My supernova windowsill, my supernova windowsill)
Take it or leave it. Who’s learning? Who’s preaching?
Everybody’s on their shit, I’m feeling life
The cycles repeating, my strange love is fleeting
Everybody’s on their shit, I’m feeling life
Turn the radio on, do you like what you hear?
It’s the pain that I’ve tasted, with the freaks I hold near
So tell me what’s with the pressure that we are made to consume
Fight for purpose, we’ve got no future locked away in our rooms
And I know my way out, I know my way
And I know my way out
On my vertebrae I stand, gazing brand new to the cos'
What’s more important? Who I am or who they think that I was
I’ll find comfort in the day, when its flesh to decay
I’m on a hypersonic rocket floating lightyears away
Don’t forget that I’m real, not another weapon of mass appeal
It’s time to turn off
(My supernova windowsill, my supernova windowsill)
You must forget that I’m real, reciprocate the hands that I deal
It’s time to jump off
(My supernova windowsill, my supernova windowsill)
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