Spade

Your eyes are like obsidian
They gaze into oblivion
Slack-jawed as a simpleton staring at the sun
A sinner's disdain for a saint
Anguish makes a marinade
That slowly seeps into my brain
Until your mouth can make me tame...

And on the topic of sin
I'm halfway between caring and offering a spade
To dig up a hole that you want to live in

Cigarettes and perfume were
Cruel tools to employ
Emptying your arsenal
Attempting to destroy
My confidence, or any hope for change of circumstance
In trusting in a cut-rate actor playing at romance

And on the topic of change
I won't owe you a dime for the dollars made
In telling all the world of your half-wit smile
And all the scars you've been handing out

I hope that someone finds you...
I hope that someone finds you...



Credits
Writer(s): Jonathan Watkins
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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