The cold glance of your eyes
Tells a story I've heard several times before
And of all the moments I've been frozen
It seems the past just won't erase
Or at the least ******* get warmer
Because bombs are funny things
They explode when you most, and least, expect them
And in all this friendly fire
And the sharpest of barbs that we've traded
It's clear that there's a bounty on my head
We tiptoe through these tripwires
Falling for these faceless and withered phantoms
And of all the nights we've been at war
And all the mornings the sirens chime
This is finally where my heart dies out
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 4:32 PM UTC
The cold glance of your eyes
Tells a story I've heard several times before
And of all the moments I've been frozen
It seems the past just won't erase
Or at the least ******* get warmer
Because bombs are funny things
They explode when you most, and least, expect them
And in all this friendly fire
And the sharpest of barbs that we've traded
It's clear that there's a bounty on my head
We tiptoe through these tripwires
Falling for these faceless and withered phantoms
And of all the nights we've been at war
And all the mornings the sirens chime
This is finally where my heart dies out
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