Ribbons کے بول

trying to keep ourselves from forgeting who we were where were from in an empty home we wake up screaming "who's this person that I've become?" knives stuck in our backs, to ensure frustration always pretending, that were alone I tie ribbons on every tree that I walk by, to find my way home but as trees turn to buildings, I feel smaller, I'm too scared to face this on my own april in Chicago, that night that you died, my head on your chest, as you layed cold we're still trying, we're always trying