James Plotkin - Hung on a line | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• James Plotkin
• Hung on a line

a kiss, a key finding mother
her's a voice hung on a line
empty pockets in the barren trees
the moments fruitless pluck

spending the days, counting
counting the days spreading
boneless wings which cut the air
a crippled glide moving backwards
nobody, nowhere

the blacker the space, the greater the danger
the greater the danger, the larger the key
the larger the key, the smaller the lock
it's a joke

a tiny pinhole pierced with the way
can't get in it, can't see through it
can't fit, won't fit, trapped


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