Disappearing Habit, Pt. 2

Sunken sofa surfing
Feel so undeserving of the only quiet corner
In this bright, old block of spirited streets
It's reserved for guests
I wonder who will sleep here next
I wonder if they'll manage to find real rest

It's been evading me
In the very same way I've been trying to escape from everything
The mattress I have known is stained, full of holes



Credits
Writer(s): László Reynolds
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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