I must confess that nothings changed for now.
|
While knives that line sweet conversations still find a way,
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into our beds while we sleep.
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Can't you see that there's an ocean that drawn a line,
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between our bodies and our minds, we look for ghost,
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and that's what we find.
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Will we bury who we loved or is the ground,
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to cold to break?
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Well we slept our way through knowing what to do.
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-----------------
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I Dread The Time When Your Mouth Begins To Call Me Hunter
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| Fairweather |
