Rewind to every last second you never lived,
and to the forgotten hopes of sad cotton-mouthed stains.
I, for one, never forgave those who have done me wrong.
I guess it's a tragedy, but I never got your name.
A pretty little pink umbrella; you can't get to me now.
You just can't get to me.
Give a foot or a leg to dance, a time to waltz with nothing more than severed limbs.
The rabbit knows what I'm talking about, and he gave the gift of time to those who couldn't take the life of another.
I understand this clearly, please go away.
Leave me be.
The birds just won't stand my songs anymore.
Jan 29, 2012
Jan 29, 2012 at 10:59 PM UTC
Rewind to every last second you never lived,
and to the forgotten hopes of sad cotton-mouthed stains.
I, for one, never forgave those who have done me wrong.
I guess it's a tragedy, but I never got your name.
A pretty little pink umbrella; you can't get to me now.
You just can't get to me.
Give a foot or a leg to dance, a time to waltz with nothing more than severed limbs.
The rabbit knows what I'm talking about, and he gave the gift of time to those who couldn't take the life of another.
I understand this clearly, please go away.
Leave me be.
The birds just won't stand my songs anymore.
Written when I was 14.
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