terça-feira, 22 de julho de 2008


Are you listening?
we write a thousand pages, they're torn and on the floor
headlights hammer the windows, we're locked behind these doors
and we are never leaving, this place is part of us
and all these scenes repeating are cold to the touch
my hands seem to deceive me
when I'm nervous or when I'm healthy.
the scenery's all drawn.
they hang here from the walls dear,
painting pictures, bleeding colors,
blanket the windows.
sometimes it gets so hard to breathe.
your eyes can see right through me.
these fights with your arms left beside.
one thing and one more says goodnight.
you've got the map come get to me.
these knuckles break before they bleed.
tear out these veins that own my heart.
this skin that wears your lasting marks.
i've built these walls come get to me, come get to me.
is this your lesson, a slight discretion,
the lines that keep you, the lines that sweep you.
lock the doors from the inside.
your face is so contagious, it wears announcements,
it leaves me breathless, i won't forget this.
let the walls have their say.
there's no conversation, words without remorse
and this television drowns the only source
wake from these dreams of you in my arms
to the staircase where you hold my heart
this place, these walls mean everything to me.

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