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lyrics

These hands are tied, yours straight to mine and it digs a trench around my wrist.
Its hard to laugh with a mouth of glass,
a shard for every cold dead kiss.

Lynch these hands because I can’t stand the way they cling to you.

I need some kind of fix,
I need some kind of fix,
How can I heal when,
I’m just so damn sick.

Run, run, until I am just a line,
A foot note in your mind of where you’ve been.
Young love is but a jagged edge,
The part of what is left of my everything.

And I can’t stand the way I cling to you.

credits

from This House Has No Windows, released October 23, 2015

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Close to Home England, UK

A DIY artist collective.

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