Song | Don't Look Now, I'm Being Followed. Act Normal |
Artist | Hands Like Houses |
Album | Ground Dweller |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
Is this the edge of the world? | |
We chased the horizon down ‘til it hung beneath our feet. | |
Now I’m drifting blind. | |
All I know is we can’t move closer. | |
I’ve never seen the lights of the north, | |
The constellations are so unfamiliar. | |
We followed far, as far as this machinery takes us, | |
To some imaginary place where the compass shifts | |
And our lips drift to our cheeks. | |
Is this the edge of the world? | |
All I know is we can’t move closer. | |
Searching for some apparent place where floated needles decide the way. | |
I’d dig in my heels but | |
I might crack the ice. | |
Give me some solid ground. | |
The frost is sinking in, in my cheeks, in my chest, in my fingertips. ‘ | |
Desperation,’ we name every cape beyond the last. | |
Frozen senseless. | |
Every day is a winter solstice. | |
The view’s a wonder, but | |
I can’t take it in. | |
Sun, make canvas of coastlines, so | |
I know where | |
I stand. We round each cape to find a bay to call our own. | |
We round each cape to find a coast to call our home. | |
Make canvas of coastlines. |
Is this the edge of the world? | |
We chased the horizon down ' til it hung beneath our feet. | |
Now I' m drifting blind. | |
All I know is we can' t move closer. | |
I' ve never seen the lights of the north, | |
The constellations are so unfamiliar. | |
We followed far, as far as this machinery takes us, | |
To some imaginary place where the compass shifts | |
And our lips drift to our cheeks. | |
Is this the edge of the world? | |
All I know is we can' t move closer. | |
Searching for some apparent place where floated needles decide the way. | |
I' d dig in my heels but | |
I might crack the ice. | |
Give me some solid ground. | |
The frost is sinking in, in my cheeks, in my chest, in my fingertips. ' | |
Desperation,' we name every cape beyond the last. | |
Frozen senseless. | |
Every day is a winter solstice. | |
The view' s a wonder, but | |
I can' t take it in. | |
Sun, make canvas of coastlines, so | |
I know where | |
I stand. We round each cape to find a bay to call our own. | |
We round each cape to find a coast to call our home. | |
Make canvas of coastlines. |
Is this the edge of the world? | |
We chased the horizon down ' til it hung beneath our feet. | |
Now I' m drifting blind. | |
All I know is we can' t move closer. | |
I' ve never seen the lights of the north, | |
The constellations are so unfamiliar. | |
We followed far, as far as this machinery takes us, | |
To some imaginary place where the compass shifts | |
And our lips drift to our cheeks. | |
Is this the edge of the world? | |
All I know is we can' t move closer. | |
Searching for some apparent place where floated needles decide the way. | |
I' d dig in my heels but | |
I might crack the ice. | |
Give me some solid ground. | |
The frost is sinking in, in my cheeks, in my chest, in my fingertips. ' | |
Desperation,' we name every cape beyond the last. | |
Frozen senseless. | |
Every day is a winter solstice. | |
The view' s a wonder, but | |
I can' t take it in. | |
Sun, make canvas of coastlines, so | |
I know where | |
I stand. We round each cape to find a bay to call our own. | |
We round each cape to find a coast to call our home. | |
Make canvas of coastlines. |