HOME | DD

Description
Circle round the earth
And take your hands off me
I don't want to play

And wrap your head around
This concept, I don't want to say
Yes to you, no it's not love
If one of us is up above
And playing with strong and
Poison guise of gentle words
A knife bound by our dearest love,
How are my screams not heard?
It seems you've covered up the sheets
And focus on the birds

And lilies bloom far and away
I wish I was a flower again
Because I would take back
Every moment, every patient sin
Spent trying to fix the broken ease
Upon which I could rest my feet
But you filled me with a hatred
Strong and growing from within
There are some things that our
Feeble human hands can never fix
I circle round the earth with you
Always eating up my mind
Perhaps it's time to leave this thing
Behind

I circle round the earth with you,
And take your hands off me
You writhe and scream but
I don't hear a thing

Because you know it is not love
If one of us is up above
With mangled hands we play
And ooze our hatred everywhere

But flowers long for rays of sun
And though I am no longer one
I long to shed the sticky goo
Like old and dirty clothes

Description
Circle round the earth
And take your hands off me
I don't want to play

And wrap your head around
This concept, I don't want to say
Yes to you, no it's not love
If one of us is up above
And playing with strong and
Poison guise of gentle words
A knife bound by our dearest love,
How are my screams not heard?
It seems you've covered up the sheets
And focus on the birds

And lilies bloom far and away
I wish I was a flower again
Because I would take back
Every moment, every patient sin
Spent trying to fix the broken ease
Upon which I could rest my feet
But you filled me with a hatred
Strong and growing from within
There are some things that our
Feeble human hands can never fix
I circle round the earth with you
Always eating up my mind
Perhaps it's time to leave this thing
Behind

I circle round the earth with you,
And take your hands off me
You writhe and scream but
I don't hear a thing

Because you know it is not love
If one of us is up above
With mangled hands we play
And ooze our hatred everywhere

But flowers long for rays of sun
And though I am no longer one
I long to shed the sticky goo
Like old and dirty clothes