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Pillows over your head, scared your thoughts might seep through doors,
loud as your creaking hard-wood floors that give you away.
And know today i saw a beat up car. it had rusted on the roof like yours,
had no reflection through the back seat window. i started to shake.
i started to.
We spread our tracks across the lawns outside our homes, both driving by when no one's home, when it's too late.
If ever there were a cause for drift, i'd swear it to be the land or air, because accounting for all that space between us would make it seem like we don't care. no, but we still care.
If ever there were a cause for drift i'd swear it to be the land or air, because accounting for all that space between us would make it seem like we don't care. no, but we still care.
(Merci à Talleux pour cettes paroles)
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