The days stretch apart, no recollection of the last.
I guess that's how it goes, living young, dumb and fast.
I show no anger to the past that has molded me, but regrets I still hold with greif.
Still hold belief that dreams can really happen, their picturesque beauty understood...no need for any caption.
An everlasting passion bleeding out of me, I'm not sure what else I can do to make you see, this nostalgic feeling still haunting every breath I breathe, every step that I take toward this sea. I can almost see your heart, equipped with a windchilled lining and snow to patch the holes from where your fear seeps, before you sleep...convincing yourself that love is dead, with every beat.