Tension's up like fists in a fight. It would've meant something. This is my mind on your recorder; this is my soul that, that you're hearing. I used to have my own songs.
If I don't mind, then this problem remains my own. When thinkin outloud just makes you turn away. Your silence is crushing.
Damn, your friends were wrong. With all of the things you know, with what little grace you show. Just "send a list of instructions to the factory and upon its return we'll Only if it's gold, only if it's gold" It's sickening in stereo.
If I dont mind, then this probem remains my own. When holding things down, just makes you turn away.