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I fell down thirty feet of stairs, |
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Landed in a hole buried under cloak. |
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And as I grow |
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I tried to let this go, |
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But I cannot hide under half-shut eyes. |
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And I feel it calling me again, |
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In winter ice |
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I stand.And |
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I feel it calling me again, |
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So what will it take |
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To make this finally the end? |
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Carving snow, |
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I found myself a glove. |
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So I took it home and my body, mind and soul. |
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We're draped in robes like soft and flowing tones |
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Through a combo and it's quarter cranked again |
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And this time |
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I follow my own lines. |
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And I feel it calling me again, |
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In winter ice |
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I stand.I feel it calling me again, |
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So what will it take |
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To make this finally the end? |
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It's the breaking point, the crossed out, the fine lines we hide, the lies |
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Medicine, and crooked ties define why |
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I'm not who you thought you liked |
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It's the breaking point, the crossed out, the fine lines we hide, the lies |
|
Medicine, and crooked ties define why |
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I'm not who you thought you liked |
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It's the breaking point, the crossed out, the fine lines we hide, the lies |
|
Medicine, and crooked ties define why |
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I'm not who you thought you liked |
