Sweet nothings
Like ivy green, and rose-tinted dreams
Surely these strings grow old
With mint-ginger tea, and the ocean at our feet
Many stories stay untold
Well, there's not much left to say
I kinda like the silence anyway
Oh, there's nowhere left to go
Except the little place that you call home
Thank you for coming to my show
Surely these strings grow old
With mint-ginger tea, and the ocean at our feet
Many stories stay untold
Well, there's not much left to say
I kinda like the silence anyway
Oh, there's nowhere left to go
Except the little place that you call home
Thank you for coming to my show
Credits
Writer(s): Hunter Ventura
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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