My Glorious Mess. When The Morning Comes. Sorry. Zeneszám

From a mountain o?er the hills
Made of counterfeit dollar bills
He?d spoken through a fading summer?s light

In the glisten of the dew
There was silver tinted blue
A piano was playing three steps out of tune
It was all for you

I?m sorry I doubted you
Your questions had me confused
I?m sorry I couldn?t move
Frustrated, fixated youth

Through the rising of the mist
He was outed with a kiss
In the innocence of their twenty second year
It was all worked out
All for you

I?m sorry I doubted you
Your questions had me confused
I?m sorry I couldn?t move
Frustrated, fixated youth

I?m sorry I doubted you
Your questions had me confused
I?m sorry I couldn?t move
Frustrated, fixated youth

(Thanks to Joseph for these lyrics)