The guitar that you play every day
Is dusty like the lies you leave
Scattered on the floor like your vintage vinyls
Cigarettes you hate to smoke
Burning the lips of the girl
Whose bleached blonde hair you die to dye
Your empty wallet
Your empty hands
Your searching eyes
Mar 6, 2010
Mar 6, 2010 at 8:22 PM UTC
The guitar that you play every day
Is dusty like the lies you leave
Scattered on the floor like your vintage vinyls
Cigarettes you hate to smoke
Burning the lips of the girl
Whose bleached blonde hair you die to dye
Your empty wallet
Your empty hands
Your searching eyes