|
It will come around* |
|
But everything is now |
|
I know everything is right now |
|
The loneliness is a lot |
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But the nothing weighs a ton |
|
I mean the nothing weighs a fucking ton |
|
That half of the bed |
|
Empty like a page |
|
Of the curses claims you've yet to make |
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Oh, the promising light |
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Bending like a spine |
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Or the whiteness that your pen could write |
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Get these bandages off |
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You cant stand, you can walk |
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Leave these towels apart |
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You get up, you get out |
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Into the sun |
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That's where we belong |
|
Been a bit too long |
|
All our weaknesses are growing strong |
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And winter always ends |
|
With water on your limbs, the April rain comes swinging in |
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Take these bandages off |
|
Let me stand, let me walk |
|
Leave these towels apart |
|
Let me up, let me out, |
|
Into the sun |
|
Oh, come she will |
|
Come she will |
|
Come, she will |
|
Come she will |
|
She will |
|
She comes, oh, |
|
She comes, son, |
|
She cooooomes |
|
She comes, oh, |
|
She comes, son, |
|
She cooooomes |
|
She comes, oh, |
|
She comes, son, |
|
She cooooomes |
|
She comes, oh, |
|
She comes, son, |
|
She cooooomes |
|
She comes, oh, |
|
She comes, son, |
|
She cooooomes |
|
She comes, oh, |
|
She comes, son, |
|
She cooooomes |
|
She comes, oh, |
|
She comes, son |
|
She cooooomes |
