Deafheaven - Dreamhouse | Текст песни

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• Deafheaven
• Dreamhouse

Hindered by sober restlessness. Submitting to the amber crutch. The theme in my aching prose. Fantasizing the sight of Manhattan; that pour of a bitter red being that escapes a thin frame. The rebirth of mutual love. The slipping on gloves to lay tenderly.

"I'm dying."
- "Is it blissful?"
"It's like a dream."
- "I want to dream."

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