Chapels - We Are the Young Hearts pt. III | Текст песни

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• Chapels
• We Are the Young Hearts pt. III

I touched her soft skin like trying to hold smoke, like grasping at a ghost; I scream inside just thinking about her.
These nights I lay sleepless, my dreams a picture of the past, and she’s the frame, holding me together, its holding all the same.
I thread my fingers through her hand, and she knits hers back, but I’m torn away, I fade away like dust in a storm. And her green eyes stay fixed on the space like gazing at a ghost.

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