Hearts Like Hell - Cloud Cover | Текст песни

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• Hearts Like Hell
• Cloud Cover

Soft spoken machines bow the center of the heart string.
Subsequent assurance, sorrow one day speaks of grief.
The remorse and the panic will replace the warmth of the
blackened and brilliantly cloud-covered sky!

As lost as your love feels:
I'll still remind you.
As soft as your voice speaks:
I will still hear you.
As far as you'll always be:
I'll still believe you.
As gone as your heart seems:
Mine will still breathe you.

I bet every single one of you would kill for the chance,
to use your voice and say what you couldn't ever since.
The tragedy that hurt you or the love that made you feel alive,
before the days helped you bury it, forever inside.
One day, after flowers, you will hear every story.
But it's best before I go that you hear it from me:
If this is my last night sweating out in my body,
try to assume knowing I tried, and that I'm sorry.

It's only right that the clouds look like anvils,
just before the rain falls and the dark of the overwrought storm builds.
Sun sets behind a curtain of white walls.
A sense of the urgency begins a violent spell.
I will be buried in a place called rightfully mine
by my love and its penance.

"Posthumous" is not a way of living, and if that widespread truth is belief,
then I guess I need another synonym for the grief that leaves me:
Wondering if waves are worth what wandering once was to me:
Sitting still, violently still.
So I sit and I see, and I watch the reflection of light
bend and mimic these gasps of breath.
As I hung to the beam of light,
transfixed on the reminder of what's left.
Just my body! Lifted to the sky, almost weightless,
by birds who carry strings in their beaks.
Where my death is as fluent as which way the wind blows.
From far out here!
The clouds rained breathlessly, and we breathe just as fast, if not faster.
But still stuttered.
As I flip through photo books; you come alive,
coughing through swollen lungs, laughter exhuming concrete paralysis.
Sidewalks revealing cracks mapping falling and failings through,
the same reminder that a single star at midnight is still light enough
for two hands to fall through and flip through the photo books backwards.
Like when we were alive.
But "alive" will no longer ever be home, at least not to me.
But the cemetery will always be there, a reminder I have nothing left to lose.

The thought of your eyes makes me homesick.

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