Song | Holding Sand |
Artist | Rival Schools |
Album | United By Fate |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
作曲 : Rival Schools, S. | |
Sew a late seed | |
And so inside | |
A cast out, unwanted son | |
A crawl to what you want | |
Sit down, you fault, you run away from anyone | |
And where you live, | |
I feel most on | |
A corner of space that you don抰 run | |
And guard抯 off, | |
I pass you by | |
Makes no impression as you stand | |
Makes no impression holding sand | |
A waif across the sea, aloss | |
Because you can抰 think straight | |
It抯 your calling | |
Wasted mourning | |
You wish it was your hand sliding down her back | |
Call, this is the first thing that you can solve | |
As the weight comes off again | |
Always the last to remember a name | |
Makes no impression as you stand | |
Makes no impression holding sand | |
You had your captive fan, and then what? | |
She saw your face and it tied your hands | |
Made no impression on me | |
Only left out holding sand | |
And it runs through | |
Shows in your face and runs through your hands |
zuo qu : Rival Schools, S. | |
Sew a late seed | |
And so inside | |
A cast out, unwanted son | |
A crawl to what you want | |
Sit down, you fault, you run away from anyone | |
And where you live, | |
I feel most on | |
A corner of space that you don yang run | |
And guard zha off, | |
I pass you by | |
Makes no impression as you stand | |
Makes no impression holding sand | |
A waif across the sea, aloss | |
Because you can yang think straight | |
It zha your calling | |
Wasted mourning | |
You wish it was your hand sliding down her back | |
Call, this is the first thing that you can solve | |
As the weight comes off again | |
Always the last to remember a name | |
Makes no impression as you stand | |
Makes no impression holding sand | |
You had your captive fan, and then what? | |
She saw your face and it tied your hands | |
Made no impression on me | |
Only left out holding sand | |
And it runs through | |
Shows in your face and runs through your hands |
zuò qǔ : Rival Schools, S. | |
Sew a late seed | |
And so inside | |
A cast out, unwanted son | |
A crawl to what you want | |
Sit down, you fault, you run away from anyone | |
And where you live, | |
I feel most on | |
A corner of space that you don yāng run | |
And guard zhā off, | |
I pass you by | |
Makes no impression as you stand | |
Makes no impression holding sand | |
A waif across the sea, aloss | |
Because you can yāng think straight | |
It zhā your calling | |
Wasted mourning | |
You wish it was your hand sliding down her back | |
Call, this is the first thing that you can solve | |
As the weight comes off again | |
Always the last to remember a name | |
Makes no impression as you stand | |
Makes no impression holding sand | |
You had your captive fan, and then what? | |
She saw your face and it tied your hands | |
Made no impression on me | |
Only left out holding sand | |
And it runs through | |
Shows in your face and runs through your hands |