Sleeper
The midsummer noon sun
On the white closet door
Through Venetian blinds, threadbare
Hung over cracked windows
The place I once called home
A shell of its old self
But the map that still hangs here
With pinned thumb tacks for each trip
Is an archive of loved years
Good memories in death's grip
The serpent eats its own tail:
On the white closet door
Through Venetian blinds, threadbare
Hung over cracked windows
The place I once called home
A shell of its old self
But the map that still hangs here
With pinned thumb tacks for each trip
Is an archive of loved years
Good memories in death's grip
The serpent eats its own tail:
Credits
Writer(s): Adam Sharp
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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