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  • Текст песни Witness - Spring Cleaning

    Исполнитель: Witness
    Название песни: Spring Cleaning
    Дата добавления: 01.06.2016 | 19:34:00
    Просмотров: 16
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    Тут расположен текст песни (слова песни) Witness - Spring Cleaning, перевод и видео (клип).
    Spring Cleaning
    there's a method to the madness of this attic i'm accustomed to
    but every spring i try to visit with a brush and broom
    dust consumes this collection of souvenirs
    and tonight i'd like to erase any proof that you were here
    let's begin with a look inside of a shoe box
    here's my youthful aspiration to be 2pac
    a book on darwin with photos of the galapagos
    here's a picture of the father that i never got to know
    a shot my mother bathing her babies in a sink
    a mediocre poem that i wrote in golden ink
    and over here is a crate of academic records
    i traded in for vinyl when i learned i could apply em better
    it's apparent that i haven't cleaned in ages when i'm finding
    social studies books with porn between the pages
    born in fetal stages and cluttered ever since
    this attic needs the vacancy to make some room to think
    but in the corner there's a chest that's under lock and key
    and possibly the target of the cleansing
    and as it opens there's a part of me that's over it and part of me
    that wants to keep remembering

    dear john,
    i'm ecstatic that we met and i
    haven't been upset from the night we spoke on the beach
    it feels like there's a part of me that's hollow
    and i'll follow you because i think you've got the missing piece
    dear john,
    can't believe it's been a year, wish that you were here with me in this unfamiliar city
    i know you're insecurities are eating you alive, but i'm thinking of your eyes every time we...
    dear john,
    i'm the victim of a city serpent's venom and i'm being sent away
    in search of purpose
    it hurts that anniversaries are only words to me and lately i've been wondering why you thought i was worth it
    she ran shoe less through shards of my heart of glass toward a garden of golden roses with invisible thorns
    and her presence in my attic is an umbilical cord that pulls my physical form towards her miserable storm
    i stripped the picture frames of their faces
    and liberated shackled chain letters from my ankles and wrists
    and kept my fingers from the edges of the envelopes and anything
    that might have had a dance with her lips

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