There are razors on the floor and a clock against the wall.
It’s got the power to compel idyllic summers fall.

Set the trap to catch the wind and watch it pass through unaware.
I got tangled in my words and my message was unclear.

In case of shivers, huddle close; we’ll start a fire in the room
and count the hours we have left until we leave our days of youth.

The threat of paper guns and swords; we are masters of pretend.
We mistake those we adore and we’ve labeled them as friends

Unleash the doubt that cages love. These chases have led me to bleed.
These patches don’t seem small enough. I’ll be more reckless with my dreams.