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Hopeful Hands
These failures writes themselves in past and present tense
They're compiling these guidelines on giving up
But I've got a comma in my pocket, you've got a dot dot dot
We could steal some sugar from blank pages
We'll taste life if we don't get caught
The ball point is run dry
It's standing on standby
Making love to its paper
It scratches and tears
Your eyes are spilling out stories your lips can't bare to speak, and
Our biographies are slowly burning
It's tragically beautiful, it's painful and sweet
The ball point is run dry
It's standing on standby
It's trapped in itself
And condemned to its faults
They'll write us off
They'll write us off
There are clouds clouding up my books
I take my storms on the rocks
The real monsters are reside inside
So I daydream with the doors unlocked
The ball point is run dry
It's standing on standby
Making love to its paper
It scratches and tears
They'll write us off
They'll write us off
These failures writes themselves in past and present tense
They're compiling these guidelines on giving up
But I've got a comma in my pocket, you've got a dot dot dot
We could steal some sugar from blank pages
We'll taste life if we don't get caught
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