é... quando eu era um meninote eu era meio emo... Are you listening? We write a thousand pages, theyre torn and on the floor. Headlights hammer the windows, were locked behind these doors. And we are never leaving, this place is part of us. And all these scenes repeating are cold to the touch. My hands seem to deceive me When Im nervous or when Im healthy. The scenerys all drawn. They hang here from the walls dear, Painting pictures, bleeding colors, Blanket the windows. Sometimes it gets so hard to breathe. Your eyes can see right through me. These fights with your arms left beside. Its one thing and one more says goodnight. Youve got the map come get to me. These knuckles break before they bleed. Tear out these veins that own my heart. This skin that wears your lasting marks. Ive built these walls come get to me, come get to me. Is this your lesson, a slight discretion, The lines that keep you, the lines that sweep you. Lock the doors from the inside. Your face is so contagious, it wears announcements, It leaves me breathless, I wont forget this, I wont forget. Sometimes it gets so hard to breathe. Your eyes can see right through me. Let the walls have their say. [x6] Have their say. Theres no conversation, words without remorse. And this television drowns the only source. Wake from these dreams of you in my arms. Go to the staircase where you hold my heart. This place, these walls mean everything to me. https://youtube/watch?v=dXX7rnPOXIQ
Posted on: Wed, 19 Mar 2014 14:36:05 +0000
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