The Foreboding Sense Of Impending Happiness By your heart strings I'm hanging from a dream, Gently swinging in the warm autumn breeze. Come look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up. Look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up, no more. Tiptoeing along a strand of your hair suspended between, These thoughts and actions miles above reality. Come look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up. Look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up. Smother a heart, Opening up, opening up. Look at the Scars, You open me up, opening up, open me up