I've spent so much time on clocks and kids, ghosts and the never ending sky. It's time i start swallowing myself and start kissing the ground, because
December 15th 1979, this single room apartments covered in books i haven't read. The girl with cigarette eyes is standing in her underwear in the doorway
Stand on the sky, From sleeping on swing-sets to swallowing sunsets its hard to find truth in these clocks(we're just moments away) All the numbers never
Whisper walls, they sing to me openly. Hello Mr.Jazz! you look like hell tonight. Your piano key attire, you dressed for the night just right. words
How do we even know we're alive without constant eyes on our art? Tomorrow is never going to be today, the past can't really exist if we can't touch
Voices! Voices! You sing through glass, you music box head! Voices! Voices! You can't be a ghost if your already dead (Thanks to liz for these lyrics
my self and my throat is dry, they are watching in the woods with their monocled eyes. so Were made of porcelain and our faces are covered in flies, Oh
