Turn the page,
And let me read something new
For now my innocence is torn
With no one wearing their real faces
Rudiments of utopian vandalism is born,
And I still hope,
That you'll seek me at the end of the night
And I still hope,
That you'll take away my reasons to fight,
Beyond the horizon.
Give me a blade to cut my wings,
Voluntary armament is the road to peace
Stacking up grave upon graves,
My emotions seek,
Trenches as their niche
And I still hope,
That you'll encase your arms around my neck,
When my back is against the wall
And I still know,
That you'll throw me away when the messengers bring, messages of war.
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 10:40 AM UTC
Turn the page,
And let me read something new
For now my innocence is torn
With no one wearing their real faces
Rudiments of utopian vandalism is born,
And I still hope,
That you'll seek me at the end of the night
And I still hope,
That you'll take away my reasons to fight,
Beyond the horizon.
Give me a blade to cut my wings,
Voluntary armament is the road to peace
Stacking up grave upon graves,
My emotions seek,
Trenches as their niche
And I still hope,
That you'll encase your arms around my neck,
When my back is against the wall
And I still know,
That you'll throw me away when the messengers bring, messages of war.
