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The busy don't have time for tears |
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I'm so miserable without them |
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It's almost like they are here. |
|
I guess I picked the wrong week to start storming out |
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My roof falls to the ground. |
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As seconds turn too blue for my blood. |
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I can see it on your face |
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It's almost like |
|
I've displaced every single nerve |
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Pinches to unearth |
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Those rotten words. |
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Every thought just leads to you like winding roads to beaches |
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And every word |
|
I send your way, you feed it to the leeches |
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Why don't you just get it? |
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Can't you get it? |
|
Call your bluff. |
|
I've had enough |
|
Don't give up. |
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I'm married to my work and there's no place |
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For a hungry heart like yours |
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And a temper |
|
I never quite tamed. |
|
Like sugar, our bonds once pure have now dissolved. |
|
Every thought just leads to you like winding roads to beaches |
|
And every word |
|
I send your way, you feed it to the leeches |
|
Why don't you just get it? |
|
Can't you get it? |
|
Call your bluff. |
|
I've had enough |
|
Don't give up on all the picture frames we filled |
|
For you and |
|
I, I'll make the world stand still. |
