The Autumns - Deathly Little Dreams | Текст песни

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• The Autumns
• Deathly Little Dreams

Turning in his stead
trading less for poor
left your laughing spirit
lapping at the shore

Swim, I am not with you
cold and brackish brine
wistful as it swallows
you in its sweet time

Swear I'm only dreaming
deathly little dreams
when I see you sleeping
pale beneath the sea


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