Correct Me - Foreign Fields

Saturday night, I’m still running wild

Still cleaning my wounds like an unloved child

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 I know you’ve heard

Oh, in the end, I don’t wanna fly

I wasn’t made for the sky

All these years, oh, 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 let gravity do what it does and correct me

All these years, yeah, 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 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!

I’m dying here!

(Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no)

I think I’m dying here!

I’m dying here!

(Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no)

I think I’m dying here!

I’m dying here!

(Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no)

I think I’m dying here!

I’m dying here!

(Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no)

I think I’m dying here!

I’m dying here!

(Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no)

I think I’m dying here!

I’m dying, I’m dying, dying (Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no,

oh no, oh no)

I’m dying, I’m dying (Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no)

I’m dying… (Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no)

Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no