In Scars
By the time, I find my way
And I, finally get straight
By the time, that morning comes
The light, will it appear too late?
Written in scars on your hand
Tobacco stained walls, old ceiling fan
Revolving endlessly to stop
Back where it began
With baited breath, we flirt with death
And long to kiss her on the lips
Every night, we steal from sight
To hold her pale white hips
Every night and every morn(ing)
Some to vacant bliss, they are born
And with every coming light
Some awake to ceaseless night
Written in scars on your hand
Tobacco stained walls, old ceiling fan
Revolving endlessly to stop
Back where it began.

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS