Fever Dreams
Fear, a feeling, is it real?
So nostalgic too, it just puts the dark on you
Another sand down, the hands of oil are peeling
And from the sun, restraint to just throw the shade on you
Another cell now is a chance to,
is attempt to, and is trying to recall
But you're never going to touch me
And if I ever manage to get out,
it's all this waking life... just drags me down
A life spent uneasy, in pieces, always in pieces here
A life rent completely, release me away from fever dreams
Fear, a friend, without context it's reeling.
.you're never going to pay enough to do right
The veil is a thread and now it's raising like
the tension of a string that just plays the note high
And if I ever really make it out it's
all this waking world that drags me down
A life spent uneasy, in pieces, always in pieces here
A life left, release me away from fever dreams
You're sleeping in the glass room,
in the glass house is a memory now... is a memory to me
Don't you know this shift's real?
You move to lay your body down,
the hands of oil are like some small machines
Never knowing how to feel,
pushing air inside your tired mind and sleeping it
Trapped in fever dreams
So nostalgic too, it just puts the dark on you
Another sand down, the hands of oil are peeling
And from the sun, restraint to just throw the shade on you
Another cell now is a chance to,
is attempt to, and is trying to recall
But you're never going to touch me
And if I ever manage to get out,
it's all this waking life... just drags me down
A life spent uneasy, in pieces, always in pieces here
A life rent completely, release me away from fever dreams
Fear, a friend, without context it's reeling.
.you're never going to pay enough to do right
The veil is a thread and now it's raising like
the tension of a string that just plays the note high
And if I ever really make it out it's
all this waking world that drags me down
A life spent uneasy, in pieces, always in pieces here
A life left, release me away from fever dreams
You're sleeping in the glass room,
in the glass house is a memory now... is a memory to me
Don't you know this shift's real?
You move to lay your body down,
the hands of oil are like some small machines
Never knowing how to feel,
pushing air inside your tired mind and sleeping it
Trapped in fever dreams
Credits
Writer(s): Emma Ruth Rundle
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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