prodromal

If I were half as good at anything
As I am at forgetting
Maybe I wouldn't wander so far off
Or could make it more than half-way home
But I'm not half as good at anything
As sleeping off all my worries
Running like hell into the morning
Where your tomb is just a fading dream

I worried you wouldn't be waking
And the world started graying
To the pallor of your body, though
Grave linens wouldn't let me see that or
Any rise and fall of breathing
In the return of your beauty
And resurrection of a peace I'd left in
The pockets of your clothing

Only seeing gray, white and red
I was in well over my head
Repeating back to myself
"You must know this"
The echo of my own voice
A dull and colorless noise
Wondering were I in your place
Would I hear me?

But you know there's something even
Just to the asking
How when it's all been spent
We're still making noise



Credits
Writer(s): Max Whittaker
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

Link