Bottled Tears

Soft ball in a little room
Where wonders come enraptured in your gaze
But all the marks I've missed are haunting me until my final days

The weather changes but all remains the same
The war it wages, the sky it breaks

No hunting on private ground
So grab your gun and meet me out of town
Where satisfaction comes to those who seek to burn their wedding gowns

The game I've played it, and all remains the same
The war it wages, the sky it breaks

And sometimes I see footsteps on your grave
Even the afterlife could not teach you how to behave
Your coffin's open and I'm aghast
Wasn't ready for this conversation
But you're a mess

Soft ball in a little room
Where wonders come enraptured in your gaze
But all the marks I've missed are haunting me until my final days

And sometimes I see footsteps on your grave
Even the afterlife could not teach you how to behave
Your coffin's open and I'm aghast
Wasn't ready for this conversation
But you're a mess

Wasn't ready for this conversation
But you're a mess



Credits
Writer(s): Alexander Sonnemaker
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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