I stand close just close enough to see.
Your eyelids close and shutter up in front of what you see.
He pulls his gun and holds it up in fear.
Gladly there is no one left to back him up in here.
Your soul's an asylum, just like the 90's were.
This world is an island at my door.
I stand close just close enough to touch,
His arm as he walks by bearing those solid rusty cuffs.
His eyes say no I'm innocent, I swear.
But I smell fear and feel his guilt inside that lonely stare.
My heart is an island off the coast of you, I'll follow you trail until I
I reason with him, hold the picture, up at him but nothing seems to work.
My heart is an island, just off the coast of you, and I'll follow your
trail until it takes we to you.