Vines کے بول

I see meaning where you don't, where you don't I see waves of pastel orange and yellow paintings fire I see futures that you won't, that you won't I see futures where our nights are lost to condensation Night time in the basement, screaming about our feelings Running through the cold air Searching for a meaning Passed out on the concrete Dizzy from the spinning Wake up to the feeling that everybody's leaving I'm sick of your come downs Sick of your truce Sick of your way I'm sick of your tragedy that's living in our status I'm sick of your echoes Sick of these ghosts that haunt our place I get a feeling that I'll never leave this house again Night time in the basement, screaming about our feelings Running through the cold air Searching for a meaning Passed out on the concrete Dizzy from the spinning Wake up to the feeling that everybody's leaving Everybody's leaving Everybody's leaving Failed by design, slow your pace down to mine Watch my back, heave a sigh Keep it safe, make it right Failed by design, slow your pace down to mine Watch my back, heave a sigh Keep it safe, make it right Night time in the basement, screaming about our feelings Running through the cold air Searching for a meaning Passed out on the concrete Dizzy from the spinning Wake up to the feeling that everybody's leaving Everybody's leaving Everybody's leaving