They met up in Rockport
Where the moon rose early
And the days were short
And the miles between were
Still too many to mention
The Blue Ridge rides at starfall
Oh, the epic scope of it all
Those days before
The double-edged blade of contention
Sometimes passion's
Like a cigarette
Burning clean out 'fore
It really takes wing
But you always fly high
For a little while
When you think you've
Got the real thing
He moved in for the long haul
The '81 Hog, the guitar and all
They got an apartment,
A conversation piece
But the big spark dimmed substantial
You know it's always financials
That give the portrait of happiness
It's nasty crease
Sometimes passion's
Like a cigarette
Burning clean out 'fore
It really takes wing
But you always fly high
For a little while
When you think you've
Got the real thing
Sometimes they'd find common ground
Some days he'd run to where
He couldn't be found
A ride in the pines can truly inspire
The need for a soul to come clean
From a waning desire
He laid there deciding
What side of a man
Should come out of hiding
While she laid there,
The key to his conventions
She had brought some changes
But how could he pretend
With all these empty pages
And the miles to go,
Still too many to mention
Sometimes passion's
Like a cigarette
Burning clean out 'fore
It really takes wing
But you always fly high
For a little while
When you think you've
Got the real thing
Do you think you got the real thing
The Badlees - The Real Thing Lyrics
The Badlees - The Real Thing Lyrics
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
They met up in Rockport
Where the moon rose early
And the days were short
And the miles between were
Still too many to mention
The Blue Ridge rides at starfall
Oh, the epic scope of it all
Those days before
The double-edged blade of contention
Sometimes passion's
Like a cigarette
Burning clean out 'fore
It really takes wing
But you always fly high
For a little while
When you think you've
Got the real thing
He moved in for the long haul
The '81 Hog, the guitar and all
They got an apartment,
A conversation piece
But the big spark dimmed substantial
You know it's always financials
That give the portrait of happiness
It's nasty crease
Sometimes passion's
Like a cigarette
Burning clean out 'fore
It really takes wing
But you always fly high
For a little while
When you think you've
Got the real thing
Sometimes they'd find common ground
Some days he'd run to where
He couldn't be found
A ride in the pines can truly inspire
The need for a soul to come clean
From a waning desire
He laid there deciding
What side of a man
Should come out of hiding
While she laid there,
The key to his conventions
She had brought some changes
But how could he pretend
With all these empty pages
And the miles to go,
Still too many to mention
Sometimes passion's
Like a cigarette
Burning clean out 'fore
It really takes wing
But you always fly high
For a little while
When you think you've
Got the real thing
Do you think you got the real thing
Where the moon rose early
And the days were short
And the miles between were
Still too many to mention
The Blue Ridge rides at starfall
Oh, the epic scope of it all
Those days before
The double-edged blade of contention
Sometimes passion's
Like a cigarette
Burning clean out 'fore
It really takes wing
But you always fly high
For a little while
When you think you've
Got the real thing
He moved in for the long haul
The '81 Hog, the guitar and all
They got an apartment,
A conversation piece
But the big spark dimmed substantial
You know it's always financials
That give the portrait of happiness
It's nasty crease
Sometimes passion's
Like a cigarette
Burning clean out 'fore
It really takes wing
But you always fly high
For a little while
When you think you've
Got the real thing
Sometimes they'd find common ground
Some days he'd run to where
He couldn't be found
A ride in the pines can truly inspire
The need for a soul to come clean
From a waning desire
He laid there deciding
What side of a man
Should come out of hiding
While she laid there,
The key to his conventions
She had brought some changes
But how could he pretend
With all these empty pages
And the miles to go,
Still too many to mention
Sometimes passion's
Like a cigarette
Burning clean out 'fore
It really takes wing
But you always fly high
For a little while
When you think you've
Got the real thing
Do you think you got the real thing