Dreams we would die for: These days I'm collecting scars, that don't seem to fade.

Sonntag, 5. Mai 2013

These days I'm collecting scars, that don't seem to fade. - Frank Turner

Silence.

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Take a look at my body
Look at my hands
There's so much here
That I don't understand

Your face saving promises
Whispered like prayers
I don't need them

I've been treated so wrong
I've been treated so long
As if I'm becoming untouchable

Contempt loves the silence
It thrives in the dark
With fine winding tendrils
That strangle the heart

They say that promises
Sweeten the blow
But I don't need them
No, I don't need them

I'm a slow dying flower
Frost killing hour
The sweet turning sour
And untouchable

Oh, I need
The darkness
The sweetness
The sadness
The weakness
Oh, I need this

I need
A lullaby
A kiss goodnight
Angel sweet
Love of my life
Oh, I need this

Well, is it dark enough?
Can you see me?
Do you want me?
Can you reach me?
Or I'm leaving

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Sonntag, 5. Mai 2013

These days I'm collecting scars, that don't seem to fade. - Frank Turner

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