Scraps Of Tape Thirteen Thousand
There is thirteenthousand steps from my door to the sea
I've counted them all, 5 or so 3 or more beating a pavement hard
You need the money bad to wrap around your heart
There is thirteenthousand breaths left inside of me
I'm using them fast, hold your breath, less is more
The words you speak sound tired
You need the friends you have left to wrap around your heart
