Our Spring Will Come - Her Pale Hand | Текст песни

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• Our Spring Will Come
• Her Pale Hand

Trapped in this hole once again, no new breeze just disease of the mind - of the soul. Have I lost all control of myself in this hell when I fell down this pit and decided to sit? There's no use in climbing walls that are greater than you.

You?

Throw down your mask, tell me you hate me. Filtered water, it's always so much more complicated yet it seems a crime to drink from the creek. I suffocate myself, sifting through caffeine, trying to keep these broken morals in tact while closure is prioritized--

Those eyes - daggers, embedded into my soul - stare, wavering with the unfamiliarity of ferality, persistently eternal.

Oh babe, I would rob the atmosphere for us, only to continuously apologize for the wrong I've instilled in those eyes; those eyes, leaving you with the taste of salt as you bury yourself in this shoulder, but, my aim, it's towards older with you, for as long as it lasts as we dodge our mistakes and our scars from the past. So, take this hand and pull me from judgement; from apathy and agony, I'm done with it all.

Let's escape.

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