tell me that I'm young, that I don't make sense
cause I'm losing my mind to the thought of pretense
the air is filled with riot of the bad and undecided
we'll cover up our names with hearts crossed and lips red
tell me that I'm wrong, cause we're all to blame
that all the bridges burned will make sense one day
leave your letters, leave your tears
take nothing but your forsaken fears
and run.
--
i crave nothing but
a pulse beating next
to mine
No comments:
Post a Comment