The words hung from the tip of your tongue
Let's get out of here
What a blessing, what a curse
And the burning in your throat
Your eyes were tired and weak
And wandering
But never have I seen bruises on my mother
Never have I seen the fist of my father raised in a drunken stupor
Never have I looked down at myself and swore
Never to leave this bed again
Respect, what a myth, what a mess, what am I
I am mute
Respect, what a myth, what a mess, what am I
I am mute
What words could I craft
To save you from a sinking ship now
How many kisses can I give
Before color returns to your skin
Where could I take you
That would finally feel like home,
And you could tell me things are fine
But it's a lie.
And you could tell me things are fine
But we both know it's a lie.
Tell me was I good to you
Was I good enough
Did I cast out every shadow
Even if it was just for a while
Tell me was I what you needed
Tell me did I give it to you
Was I ever your light
Even if it was just for a while
What words could I craft
To save you from a sinking ship love
How many kisses can I give
Before color returns to your skin
Where could I take you
That would finally feel like home
And you could tell me things are fine
But it's a lie.
And you could tell me things are fine
But we both know it's a lie.
I can't even string together the words to express how significant this record is. This has shaped me in ways I can't explain with words. Andy Hull is incredible. Clark Williams
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