BRIGHT EYES / / / Waste of Paint BRIGHT EYES / / / Waste of Paint So I park my car down by the cathedralWhere the floodlights point up at the steeplesPractice is filling up with peopleI hear the sound escaping as an echoSloping off the ceiling at an angleWhen the voices blend they sound like angelsI hope there's some room still … Continue reading BRIGHT EYES / / / Waste of Paint