Karma lives in a world of fiction
Where people live with such affliction.
The world went red, then so were my hands,
Smashed in her head, I'm a wanted woman.

[Verse I:]
I cannot always tend to the love
I’m parched and faded on my own
chasing dreams I can’t get a hold of
crumbling through the journey of the unknown

I'm trying to get out of this hole;
To dig through the other side.
It's out of control, I know
Only thing keeping me strong is pride.

[Chorus:]
I hope love is smaller than this
to grow on its own
bloom in the shade
to be there when I am alone

I’m surrounded, ensnared
smothered from above
make me tiny enough
so I can fit in the love

[Verse II:]
The city is wired so tight, constantly on.
It’s charges weaving patterns I cannot see.
Somedays I fall, I’m nearly gone,
Unable to stay above the waves of electricity.

But the love, can it be wound,
It’s tick humming me to sleep.
Or is it's life so unkind
It would dare leave me incomplete

[Bridge:]
Is love set, ready to chime on command?
Does it sleep with the moon and wake with the sun?
Does is dance with the snow and smile with the bud?
Does it walk a long with death hand in hand?

[Verse III:]
And over time the love can ripen and blush,
and it's vines come peaking out my sleeves,
But until then, can I poke it deep down
into the earth in my chest and just leave.

To just take a sip and have it wake me up
would make me fear for what’s next to come,
But I would lick my lips, getting every drop,
For both of us to jump and succomb.

[Chorus:]
I hope love is smaller than this
to grow on its own
bloom in the shade
to be there when I am alone

I’m surrounded, ensnared
smothered from above
make me tiny enough
so I can fit in the love

I hope love is smaller than this
to grow on its own
bloom in the shade
to be there when I am alone

I’m surrounded by these statues
smothered from above
make me tiny, enough
so I can just fit in the love

“I’m a watch that tells time, but who’s tick lacks rhythm;
a kettle who boils, but who cannot whistle;
a brush who can paint, but cannot hold color;
a can for your flowers, that cannot pour water”

“The city is so animated, constantly on, constantly electric and wired.”

“I feel like I can taste the metal in her blood, Bitterness hugging my taste buds...
...the ocean breeze kissing our skin and combing our hair”

The sun coats me briefly, accumulating on my skin, until it's lost again, the warmth dripping under shade's chill, leaving me damp and stiff as a grave.

Then your eyes drift to mine, and the warmth radiates deep within me, regardless of nature's cold shelter above me, defrosting my soul, melting me free.