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Lead me blind with sweet little asides, |
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The promises we equate to break of brittle wire and copperplate. |
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We're moving in close, close, close, Rosa. |
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The winning opinion's feel good host. |
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I found a little escape... |
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I found a little escape to the rhythm of your blackened lungs, |
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To the melee going on inside, to transcend into lullabies. |
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To the rhythm of your blackened lungs, to the pestering melody, |
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To transcend into lullabies, I found a little escape. |
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Piscea, all piano wire limbs, |
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Blunter than the sharps at my fingers, |
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These nicotine stained ivories. |
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We're moving inside, close, clear, Rosa. |
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In streams of my conciousness, |
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You soak, close, clear, Rosa. |
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I found a little escape... |
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I found a little escape to the rhythm of your blackened lungs, |
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To the melee going on inside, to transcend into lullabies. |
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To the rhythm of your blackened lungs, to the pestering melody, |
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To transcend into lullabies where I've nothing to hold. |
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Now I've nothing to hold. I found a little escape. |
