To The Lighthouse 歌词

It silently seeming These eggshell ribs Weaving into your hands Can't sustain this breathing It weighs on my chest His lungs are filled with water from the tide From the tide And I watch them go by Can't define a purpose Our hands set adrift Islands, cobwebs forming Coalesce through the vapor Some strange trembling gas In sleep, I dream of houses in the sky In the sky And I watch them go by Sometimes I'm pulled away From my own misery Your hands cover me Eyes drift slowly Sleep the summer chill And sheets of linen Hush the scattered sound Of time dispersing Sometimes I'm pulled away From my own misery Your hands cover me Eyes drift slowly Sleep the summer chill And sheets of linen Hush the scattered sound Of time dispersing