Correct Me - Foreign Fields
Written by:Brian Holl/Eric Hillman
Saturday night I'm still running wild
Still cleaning my wounds like an unloved child
Oh my in the end I don't wanna die
I wasn't made for this life
Saturday night I'm a broken bird
These terrible songs that I know you heard
Oh my in the end I don't wanna fly
I wasn't made for the sky
All these years they're passing me by
Now I'm all out of time
I'll let gravity do what it does and correct me
Since that day that I tore off my wings
And I learned how to dive
I'll let gravity do what it does and correct me
All these years they're passing me by
Now I'm all out of time
I'll let gravity do what it does and correct me
Since that day that I tore off my wings
And I learned how to dive
I'll let gravity do what it does and correct me
Correct me
Oh no
Oh no
Oh no
Oh no
Oh no
Oh no
Oh no
Oh no
Oh no
Oh no
Oh no
Oh no
Oh no
Oh no
Oh no
Oh no
Oh no
Oh no
Oh no
Oh no
I think I'm dying here dying here
I think I'm dying here dying here
I think I'm dying here dying here
I think I'm dying here dying here
I think I'm dying here dying here
I think I'm dying here
I'm dying
I'm dying
I'm dying
Dying
Dying
Dying
Oh no
Oh no
Oh no
Oh no
Oh no
Oh no
Oh no
Oh no