كلمات Title Track

Left uninspired by the crust of railroad earth that touched the lead to the pages of your manuscript. I took my thumb off the concrete and saved up all my strength to hammer pillars for a picket fence. It wasn't quite what is seemed: a lack of pleasantries (my able body isn't what it used to be) I must admit I was charmed by your advances: your advantage left me helplessly into you. Talking how the group had begun to splinter and I could taste your lipstick on the filter... I tried my best to keep my distance form your dress but call-response overturns convictions every time. My memory cannot recall: a wave of alcohol we shared a cigarette and shaved the hours off. Lushing with hallway congregation, my best judgment signed its resignation I rushed this. We moved too fast, and tripped into the guestroom.