Can you see them circling above us ?
The winter left us lonely in the frost, but with these early days of spring they are returning to fly circles above our minds.
It's the kind of weather where dreams are split into tiny pieces and lost in their broken beaks.
All clocks face us as the blade sweeps up the sorrow.
Red stained bliss is the prize for the brave, but not for me.
I'm too attached to the pain to risk leaving it behind. I know all my failings and I'm so proud of who I'm not.
The drinks mix the winter's ice with the madness hidden amongst the words. But when I try and tell this to you, I always go unheard beneath the thunder of the circling birds
that fill my mouth.
The winter left us lonely in the frost, but with these early days of spring they are returning to fly circles above our minds.
It's the kind of weather where dreams are split into tiny pieces and lost in their broken beaks.
All clocks face us as the blade sweeps up the sorrow.
Red stained bliss is the prize for the brave, but not for me.
I'm too attached to the pain to risk leaving it behind. I know all my failings and I'm so proud of who I'm not.
The drinks mix the winter's ice with the madness hidden amongst the words. But when I try and tell this to you, I always go unheard beneath the thunder of the circling birds
that fill my mouth.