He doesn't make your knee weak,
|
he's beautiful and bleak.
|
He has a porcelain face,
|
that cracks when he speaks.
|
I go to start a conversation but I,
|
get no reply,
|
and you stare just like a statue
|
as I break down and cry.
|
|
Your face is like an eagle,
|
but your mind is like a crow.
|
and boy i know you have opinions,
|
but you don't let them show.
|
You're a shelf of books with out the pages,
|
a wealth of thoughts locked up in cages.
|
|
So if blood runs through your veins,
|
don't you suppose it's such a waste
|
to be composed in such a way?
|
Just let me in...
|
|
You write me letters
|
in a pen with no ink.
|
and you have your own eyes,
|
but you don't dare blink.
|
You speak in words,
|
without a sentence.
|
you're the ghost that haunts me,
|
without a presence...
|
|
So if blood runs through your veins,
|
don't you suppose it's such a waste
|
to be composed in such a way?
|
Just let me in...
|
Just let me in...
|
|
-----------------
|
Let Me In
|
| Gabrielle Aplin |
