February
Wednesday 13 August 2008 photo 1/7
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In the shadows where the heads hang low,you hear voices as the wind blows, asking "can't you see?",and reminding you to breathe.
It's only time before it catches up to you and all your broken luck but I founded a better way to get even with my memory.
In the darkness where the angels cry.
Give us water, give us back our eyes,our bed's this concrete floor, and it's all we have left to live for.
A day we'll never face,we're only second-handed, sick, and lonely.
Fighting back the tears and every urge to Van Gogh both our ears.
That said, we've had enough, now please turn that fucking radio off.
Ain't nothing on the air waving the despair we feel.
It's only time before it catches up to you and all your broken luck but I founded a better way to get even with my memory.
In the darkness where the angels cry.
Give us water, give us back our eyes,our bed's this concrete floor, and it's all we have left to live for.
A day we'll never face,we're only second-handed, sick, and lonely.
Fighting back the tears and every urge to Van Gogh both our ears.
That said, we've had enough, now please turn that fucking radio off.
Ain't nothing on the air waving the despair we feel.
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