Tekster:
On Broken Wings

it's quiet when we're mutes. the acts of an optimist, but some of us may never see the world. i hope the next time you slit yours wrists it's not for

the offensive of attempting to create illusions with goals of appearing larger to an enemy. but can you dance like indrid cold? my arm hair stands on

last night i realized my excitement for events that were not yet my life. upon return, it's all in the past, it's all a memory. all my life is, is this

Show me the stairway I have to climb Lord, for my sake Teach me to take on day at a time Wash it away It's too much for on soul to take Yeah, I think

would take the world from you As if a wasted past could ever totally consume me Maybe by tomorrow, you'll have stopped your raspirating God I hope the saying true And he broke

your fists as apparitions. they do what they do because this lonely town feels like hospital beds, and you let them. i've broke my hands for less than

ink bleeds deeper when pressed hard, soaks through paper and leaves stains on the table. you don't look how i pictured. you don't look quite how i remember

Now it seems, I've lost most everything, Take do me, how this could be, At least I got my friends, But how much do you expect these friends to mend

have to fly two broken hearts.... across the sky... On Broken Wings I guess that's how you'll have to fly two broken hearts.... across the sky... On Broken Wings