2 years till bored.
The fall holds me in.
I tripped over the cord
to my guitar.
My ears grow cold.
Behind blind eyes, bored.
I tripped over the door
to my bedroom
You're the cold hands that keep me stubbing my fingers.
You're the cold feet tapping my knees, kick me in bed.
Keeping me moving just to stave the chills from running on me,
with the smiles from me. We aren't quite sure what they mean.
2 years till
the fall holds me in.
I tripped over the cord
to my guitar.
just to stop
you're the cold hands,
you're the cold feet,
you're everything
holding me back.
Nov 26, 2010
Nov 26, 2010 at 7:25 PM UTC
2 years till bored.
The fall holds me in.
I tripped over the cord
to my guitar.
My ears grow cold.
Behind blind eyes, bored.
I tripped over the door
to my bedroom
You're the cold hands that keep me stubbing my fingers.
You're the cold feet tapping my knees, kick me in bed.
Keeping me moving just to stave the chills from running on me,
with the smiles from me. We aren't quite sure what they mean.
2 years till
the fall holds me in.
I tripped over the cord
to my guitar.
just to stop
you're the cold hands,
you're the cold feet,
you're everything
holding me back.