Cold out of touch i just let my lungs fill up with the worst of the worst bloodshot eyes wide shut buried awake all night paranoid from the weight of
It was a quarter past four in the morning When the storm broke our second anchor line Four months at sea Four months of calm seas To be pounded in the shallows
this one too And brought him to the same cold end He wondered what that boy thought inside Before that final sleep When water was all that was around And his lungs
So far, the drinks have been so strong No writing on the post cards, no memories to hang on Sleeping in my 6 o' clock shadow People judging people so shallow
from our head to our feet The game get deep, but y'all just see the surface Y'all don't see no purpose, y'all just sleep (HOW SHOULD A YOUNG G STAND?)
escape the sleep that swells there lungs. Consider youself fortunate for the rest. Dirt helmet silence is held high in regards of the troubled. Sleep
quarter past four in the morning when the storm broke our second anchor line. Four months at sea, four months of calm seas only to be pounded in the shallows
to the deep The gaels cackle to the cliffs, Celtic storm whips wild with its anger Makes the ocean lunge and dive, while forever the haunted sleep (
will escape the sleep that swells there lungs. Consider youself fortunate for the rest. Dirt helmet silence is held high in regards of the troubled. Sleep
far, the drinks have been so strong, No writing on the post cards, No memories to hang on. Sleeping in my six o' clock shadow, People judging people so shallow
