Siberia (Acoustic)

Strange hands, taking my wrist again Somehow, I'm still alone. Voices, shaking my steps again I, follow. I'm a, little bit on the edge, Hold up, hand out of reach. I can't, hear much of what you said. Don't let me tumble away, Into the throws of the

Maybe it's bricks and mortar now Whether or not they run it down I don't want anything to shake that shape away No one told us which way to came Nobody mapped oblivion So I go growing roses in the disarray Just like most, falling head in Till my ghos

Siberia from the busy parks to the icy tides some day we'll decide where we want to live to our live form out into sparks tumbling along keeping the heat on even though summer's come and gone i would sail across the east sea just to see you on the fa