agosto 08, 2009

If Winter Ends
Bright Eyes

I dreamt of a fever,
one that would cure me of this cold winter-set heart
with heat to melt the frozen tears and burnt with reasons as to carry on
into these twisted months I plunge without a light to follow
(but I swear that I would follow anything)
just get me out of here.
And you get six months to adapt and you get two more to leave town
and in the event that you do adapt we still might not want you around.
I fell for the promise of a life with purpose
but I know that's impossible now
so I drink to stay warm and to kill selected memories
because I just can't think anymore about that or about her tonight.
I give myself three days to feel better or I swear I'll drive right off a fucking cliff because if I can't make myself feel better then how can I expect anyone else to give a shit?
I scream for the sunlight or a car to take me anywhere just get me passed this dead and eternal snow because I swear that I'm dying.
Slowly, but it's happening
and if the perfect spring is waiting somewhere
just take me there and say and lie to me and say it's gonne be alright.

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