The Black Lamps - Colour 8 歌词

A gentle push to
The small of my back
On my way down
I look through the windows

I see all kind of problems
All mostly the same
A heavy drink
Of stirring emotions

As time travels through
The last of myself
My tight-fisted heart
Is slowly dissolving

No longer volatile
Just soaring and free
The ill at ease
Start taking over
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