Would I hold you or would I kill you and which would stop the suffering?
I'm sure I see your shadow in every doorway, under every flickering street lamp lighting the stones of the road.
No explanations for these blues wrapped around my fingers as I put thoughts down on white sheets to read.
I see nothing but angels, nothing but the tearing of my limbs, by beautiful winged angels. Their skin as soft as all the lies I was told as a child, as their tears run though the tips of my fingers. I try telling this to you, but you are gone.
I've hidden my heart in the high lands, and I know you can never find me. But if you did would I hold you or would I kill you and which would stop the suffering?
I'm sure I see your shadow in every doorway, under every flickering street lamp lighting the stones of the road.
No explanations for these blues wrapped around my fingers as I put thoughts down on white sheets to read.
I see nothing but angels, nothing but the tearing of my limbs, by beautiful winged angels. Their skin as soft as all the lies I was told as a child, as their tears run though the tips of my fingers. I try telling this to you, but you are gone.
I've hidden my heart in the high lands, and I know you can never find me. But if you did would I hold you or would I kill you and which would stop the suffering?