the lines i've drawn are weak and shaky.
like the hand that draws them.
the redemption i ask for is fleeting,
like the appeals i'm making.
drag these answers like chains,
drag these nights into days,
and pry my pretext off this page.
(pry my pretext off this)
the ink on my fingers will speak
to every lost hope, every last defeat.
sweet dreams lay beneath
hours of desperate thoughts and moving feet,
so second chances please knock harder,
and dreams of trespass please last longer.
and dreams of trespass please last longer.
the ink on my fingers will speak
to every lost hope, every last defeat.
the ink on my fingers will speak
to every lost hope.
dreams of trespass please last longer.
dreams of trespass please last longer.
dreams of trespass please last longer.
dreams of trespass please last longer.
and dreams of trespass please last longer.
and dreams of trespass please last longer.