Saintly rows - Dead Weight | Текст песни

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• Saintly rows
• Dead Weight

I swear that I once felt your cold, dead hands reach up and pull me under.
Condemned to a set of lungs filled with water, words seem so trite under an icy tide.
Please let me go, you are my anchor in the worst of ways.
Please lend me shade, you are my Sun on the longest days.
My dear, dead weight.
How quick we are to forget the ones we love.
How slow we are to let go of those that only bring us harm.

My dear, dead weight, you still hold me under.

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