glass of bourbon a poorly rolled smoke then it’s time to go home spend my whole night chasing your eyes two flakes of burning coal outside words climb towards the moonshine as if mining for gold in the cool dark very big dark ‘neath which I walk home
stalagtites cling tightly to the tiny perforations stationed across the sky blankets of clouds crowd around the congregation of sparkles then slides on by slides on by slides on by
the wind plays and paints an art nouveau swirl within your hair you’ll go to pains to make straight come the wide eyed morning yet still the curtains still so strangely still it feels like a sheet of solid steel or porcelain I like your skin so very fair compared to so much within these four walls the severed ties I can’t repair I’ll weave in nets to catch our downfall and so I say to you i swear nowhere could ever seem so dreary within your palm a lock of hair is smouldering and rising up oh so lightly snaking upwards coiling along the ceiling rebuild our cynicism there abreast to all my mighty misty misplaced feelings
from my paper mache crown down to the skin beneath my toes from my paper mache crown down to the skin beneath my toes I grow inwards snaking upwards coiling along the ceiling snaking upwards coiling along my ceiling
glass of bourbon a poorly rolled smoke then its time to go home spend my whole night chasing your eyes two flakes of burning coal outside words climb towards the moon shine as if mining for gold in the cool dark very big dark ‘neath which i walk home slides on by slides on byTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
