In Writing - Of All The Things She Could Have Written | Текст песни

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Somehow nothing ever seems to be over. Nothing ever ends, again I will feel the beating of, the natural calling that my heart functions for. The purposeful words that you spoke clammer about with concussive sound that it leaves me in a tattered confusion that lingers in my ears for days waiting to fall into the love of her hands ripe with intention and meaninglessness. She cares not to taste the fruit that is truth and I'm telling of a great love that may release her from the bonds of uncaring and sour thoughts. Though she may never care to see the sight of enlightened eyes she will see how deafening the sound and future pain may feel. Then again I will fall back into the same pattern because nothing ever ends, nothing ever seems to be over. It's over again.

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