Somehow down a mist of streams this lake is warmer without her
Not a gleam escapes the pink
Mumble madness are absent glory from desert storms
Not a window of pages return closed doors
Hands believe in blue while vacancy agony dims daisy dust
She paints bill board bliss across deceiving lines
Carriage despair
Tiptoe mercy a long blue moons
We are nothing alike
How the city aches for honesty
I ached for reverie
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 10:44 PM UTC
Somehow down a mist of streams this lake is warmer without her
Not a gleam escapes the pink
Mumble madness are absent glory from desert storms
Not a window of pages return closed doors
Hands believe in blue while vacancy agony dims daisy dust
She paints bill board bliss across deceiving lines
Carriage despair
Tiptoe mercy a long blue moons
We are nothing alike
How the city aches for honesty
I ached for reverie
