Now and again it seems worse than it is,
|
But mostly the view is accurate.
|
You see your breath in the air as you'll climb up the stairs
|
To that coffin you call your apartment.
|
And you sink in your chair, brush the snow from your hair
|
And drink the cold away.
|
And you're not really sure what you're doing this for
|
But you need something to fill up the days.
|
A few more hours.
|
There's a dream in my brain that just won't go away.
|
It's been stuck there since it came a few nights ago
|
And I'm standing on a bridge in the town where I lived
|
As a kid with my mom and my brothers.
|
And then the bridge disappears and I'm standing on air
|
With nothing holding me.
|
And I hang like a star, fucking glow in the dark,
|
For all those starving eyes to see,
|
Like the ones we've wished on.
|
But now I'm confused. Is this death really you?
|
And do these dreams have any meaning?
|
No. No, I think it's more like a ghost that's been following us both.
|
Something vague that we're not seeing,
|
Something more like a feeling.
|
|
-----------------
|
Something Vague
|
| Bright Eyes |
