Oh, someday yet he'll begin his life again. Looking through the paper though he doesn't know to read. Oh, praying now to something that has never showed him anything. Oh, feeling understands the weather of the winters on its way. Oh, ceilings few and far between all the legal halls of shame.
Thoughts arrive like butterflies.
Oh, someday yet he'll begin his life again. Oh, whispering hands gently lead him away. Fuck your money. Thoughts arrive like butterflies. Oh, whispering hands gently lead him away.