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Lately the days |
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Feel more like spirits to chase |
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My nights are full of strangers |
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And even stranger ends |
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My love, there comes a time in everything |
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When these silent grips become ingrained |
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As the grooves assembled on your skin |
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The machine of will |
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That shakes me constantly |
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Makes the silence behind me |
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Snarl like a swarm of bees |
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My love, the heart is strange and dissonant |
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I know I should be happier now |
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Than I've ever been |
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But stillness weighs heavy and cold on my skin |
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Darling, you've got to shake this |
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Shape you've been drifting in |
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Oh I used to think that this rage was living |
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But that movement feigns a lull so deceiving |
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When nothing has changed in your life |
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My love, there comes a time in everything |
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When these silent grips become ingrained |
