I must confess that nothings changed for now.
While knives that line sweet conversations still find a way,
into our beds while we sleep.
Can`t you see that there`s an ocean that drawn a line,
between our bodies and our minds, we look for ghost,
and that`s what we find.
Will we bury who we loved or is the ground,
to cold to break?
Well we slept our way through knowing what to do.
