Nem sempre há o que dizer. Ou o que fazer. Porque o que resta é esperar. Sem sequer saber ao certo por quê.
Back of the room, looking at you
Counting the steps between us
A hundred and five little blades in a line
From your skin to mine, and I feel it
Eyes on the ground, but I can't look up now
Don't wanna give it away, my secret
In another life, my teeth and tongue
Would speak aloud what until now I've only sung
Cause I would die to make you mine
Bleed me dry each and every time
I don't mind, no I don't mind it
I would come back a thousand times
@
Sem comentários:
Enviar um comentário