|
Lying in the back room |
|
Head into the floor |
|
Dream another color |
|
'Till you dream no more. |
|
Laying in the petals |
|
Dust becomes the smoke |
|
Fly into the flower |
|
Until it makes you choke. |
|
Gather all the playthings |
|
Living and alive |
|
Slip into a coma |
|
Surrounded by the hive. |
|
You talked about your parents |
|
As gold spun into hay |
|
I don't think I can see it |
|
The blue becomes the gray. |
|
Stuck inside the back room |
|
Staring at the door |
|
Dreamed another color |
|
'Till I dreamed no more. |
|
The rattle of the branches |
|
The shadows of the oak |
|
Fall into the flower |
|
Until it makes you choke. |
|
A year without a winter |
|
Lost inside the hive |
|
Slip into a coma |
|
Your reason won't survive. |
|
We talked about your parents |
|
And crawling by your side |
|
We found a nicer reason |
|
The turning of the tides. |
