Paroles:
The Weakend

Quicksand is a code of arms Lose sleep with some liquid fiction Last rites every Friday night While we cool with the lights on High tide tied around

: i signed up today to take you for a ride i love the weekend it makes my mind survive but i could see some distance i could see some distance in your

Quicksand is a coat of arms, Looseleaf and some liquid fiction. Last Rites every Friday night, Am I weaker with the lights on? High tide tight around

: This is the last night I'll be writing you. If apologies mean nothing than neither do these photographs that hang on my wall. So, let's look at our

: I'll bite my nails down to the skin as i sketch and plan the artistry, use these wires as tapestry and turn the sky to ash and debris. Step by step

: Stick around for a little bit sweet-pea, i've got a story to tell and noone's listening. Even this paper isn't patient enough. This time i'll grab

: The snow was falling gently, but she radiated summer, And the winter melted at her feet Her eyes were emerald green, which impeccably matched her frozen

: This is not a test and i've grown rediculously fond of pissing all my good ideas away. It's like a prostitute, you better walk away. We had big plans

: Green eyes, Sharp teeth, Have terrorized this town since 1870. Great cries and screams. Soft spots of fur that have fallen like the leaves. You wouldn