Microphones Sand (eric's Trip)
i'd like to believe in one thing that you say to me would
you like to leave?when i try to talk at all, it all just
turns out to be turn on the stove in the little tiny
rooms that our friends call a home my head fills with
heat from the knife in your hand to mine i'd like to
understand what you think about, why it seems so bad it's
only escape from everything i know i'm weak, i know that
i'm sad turn on the stove in the little tiny rooms that
our friends call a home my head fills with heat from the
knife in your hand to my sand
