Lyrixx

Reaganesk

Well, the palm of your hand
feels cold with sweat
And your back seems to be dripping with blood
from knives drawn in remembrance

Gently down a stream
it seems easy enough to believe
On and on, such as rivers run
On and on, such as in the recollection
of this old practise illusionist
I’m trying to make this mess appear
as if foreseen

Dangling from earth’s surface,
hanging from a rope cut by experience
I can see a lovelight shine
Everybody deserves to be at least questionably perfect
I can see a lovelight shine
Our recklesness has run out of hand
I can see a lovelight dying
Until the day we come to finally understand
I can see a lovelight shine