Sleep In Sundays - Carved In Rotting Wood | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Sleep In Sundays
• Carved In Rotting Wood

You go, I will leave alone, going home. There's nothing left to do here, nothing left to be. I am going out.

More flames will flicker, yes, more lips will lie in time. Your name's just ringing bells now. This city's falling down. Find memories in rotting wood, and...

The wind will whisper me your new name now, somehow. This house is built on secrets, these walls are full of shit, and I am going down...

I hear that hollow hearts are beating, bringing two where once was one.

I hear that nickname when the street sings and the sky spills paint on everyone.

And I want to say, "I hate you." I want to tear you limb from limb.

Instead, I say, "It's cool, dude, I'll pick up after you again."

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