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cigaret berns and blood stains, scraped neas and growing pains.
There is something twisted youve left in my vains
like water in the shower my soul swerals and drains
i wear my dark glasses to cover the nights spent late punishing myself.
when the lights goout and tools returnd to there home behind the books
on my shelf i wash my hands and repair the damage i've inflicted. This is not the lives we as children had depicted for us in the classrooms of what they told us would be tomorow. Als however for us there seams to be nothing more than a sea of tears and mountins of sorrow and the time in which we live is not ours,just something we borrow.
There is something twisted youve left in my vains
like water in the shower my soul swerals and drains
i wear my dark glasses to cover the nights spent late punishing myself.
when the lights goout and tools returnd to there home behind the books
on my shelf i wash my hands and repair the damage i've inflicted. This is not the lives we as children had depicted for us in the classrooms of what they told us would be tomorow. Als however for us there seams to be nothing more than a sea of tears and mountins of sorrow and the time in which we live is not ours,just something we borrow.