Sly

Say it's hard to stand up, oh, so, straight
Moving fast, it comes to pass
All too late

Stitch tween moments plot, the thought, of your face
Talks of home, the written poems, without a trace

Are you really fine
All that seems sublime
Maybe scared of trying

In the mirror you start to leer
You might become all that you fear

Stitch tween moments plot, the thought, of your face
Talks of home, the written poems, without a trace
Dusted threads, we make amends, that bleed
Subtlety my sympathies



Credits
Writer(s): Joshua Slater
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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