X Marks the Spot (Sonata Arctica)

You're a man of impeccable taste And you know when the X marks the spot We all need a map for the trail of your thought Where to go, well, the X marks the spot You seem to have a misgiving Hell yeah, you make a living Don't add bricks to what we're heaving We would so much Rather the enjoy beach, beer and a fire You think something somewhere Has a copyright for the world And you've signed where the X marks the spot You join a cult, fill the void that you've got Deep within where the X marks the spot There you stand n' talk and holler How dark are all your colors When you paint another sunrise You leave out the sun Birds like you fly straight to heaven, heaven Or they slowly float away... How well do you know those you're calling your own? I mean... come on dude! Your starving soul in your house of skin and bone You're an island, the X marks the spot There you stand n' talk and holler How dark are all your colors When you paint another sunrise You leave out the sun Birds like you fly straight to heaven, heaven Or they slowly float away... You're a circus, but where is the clown There's no map, still the X marks the spot There you stand n' talk and holler How dark are all your colors When you paint another sunrise You leave out the sun Birds like you fly straight to heaven, heaven Or they slowly float down Into the night with senior John Barleycorn Heaven, heaven Or they slowly float away...