Dahlia. - The World's Getting Cold Enough For Wishful Thinking. | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Dahlia.
• The World's Getting Cold Enough For Wishful Thinking.

Skin of porcelain.
Glistening ruby lips.
But she'll always keep me on that different level,
To ensure that hers and mine never meet.
Auburn hair flickers like the embers of her passion,
That still burn despite her sleepy eyes and the coffee stains in her notebook.
In those eyes my gaze feels at home,
Among the swirls of steel blue.
And though my voice, It makes her smile,
I know I'll never feel at home in her arms.
With the standards this world drew,
The void that seperates us from a selfless love grew.
And the rickety bridge of rotting wood,
A hope for a connection,
Was turned into,
A would've been,
A should've been,
A couldn't be.
So when I clutch to the steel,
Not unlike her eyes, on the long lonely journey home,
And her pale hands graze over my fingers
And the gusts of winter wind swirl in through the faded yellow doors,
Leaving her shivering within the dangling scarf around her throat.
I'll look into those bluish eyes, and ask her how she's been.
And she'll smile and say:
"I'm ok, what's new?"
And I'll reply "nothing"
Because nothing changes,
Neither me, nor you.
But every day I pray that you're the exception to the rule.