You’re calloused, but you don’t even know I’m picking at my scabs. I’ll let all the bruises show. I’ll never forget what all these feelings meant. Flying home for a funeral was my last regret. I hear a telephone three thousand miles from home. Do you even really care? Your heart is just stone. I’ll never forget what all these feelings meant. Flying home for a funeral was my last regret.
1 comment
We interrupt Hazy’s non stop Vance Joy and Lumineers to listen to a little Title Fight. Nice, thanks.