I water a wound that won't grow.
Hide away what people show.
All my diamonds turned to coal.
When in Rome, I moved so slow.
Her infinite heart and sheds of rusted skins,
is flying in on concave wings.
Makes my clouds...
...just...
...drip away.
I believe all her lies...
I believe all she says...
The sequel to a sound goodbye.
Mapped dead ends and empty wells.
Syringe,
syringe,
syringe.
I love the way the concrete sing.
Oct 9, 2011
Oct 9, 2011 at 12:34 AM UTC
I water a wound that won't grow.
Hide away what people show.
All my diamonds turned to coal.
When in Rome, I moved so slow.
Her infinite heart and sheds of rusted skins,
is flying in on concave wings.
Makes my clouds...
...just...
...drip away.
I believe all her lies...
I believe all she says...
The sequel to a sound goodbye.
Mapped dead ends and empty wells.
Syringe,
syringe,
syringe.
I love the way the concrete sing.