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  • Текст песни Cursive - Ceilings Crack



    Passed out in your yard
    My clothes were soaking in the morning rain
    My head's just a bruise, like walking in a coma
    Like a battered drone
    All my limbs are numb

    I've been driving past your house
    Been pounding at your door
    I know I'm just a peon to you
    But I deserve more
    Than arrogance
    Condolences
    My hearts are on the sleeves of my shirts scattered over your lawn
    And the morning dew... kissed them

    Drunk on Bastille Day
    Throwing pennies at the broken birds
    Scribbling plans on napkins
    A sketch of broken angel wings under your bed
    My bandages

    Stumbled over to your house
    I'll sneak in the back door
    I know I've been an asshole to you, but that was before
    The argument, the accident
    Well, I've heard it's just a matter of time before the hour is spent
    And my hour is spent
    I can't afford it this time
    I can't afford this time
    I can't afford this time
    I can't afford it...

    The hour has come for retribution
    I'm storming the walls down
    I'm storming the walls down
    The hour has come for retribution
    I'm storming the walls down
    I'm storming the walls down
    Before this night's done, the wounds will be gone
    I'm storming the walls down
    I'm storming the walls down

    The Dirt of the Vineyard
    Less talk, more dancing
    If we could push off the sick conversation one more night
    I surely would
    My shoes have gathered the dust of the vineyard
    Have I soiled your gown?
    There's soil on your gown, like sangria
    Cleanses the heart
    Our clogged hearts are choking on the grime
    As the big band waltzes on
    Your stranded eyes whisper...

    "The dirt is out.
    I can smell her on your velvet hands."
    The dirt is out --
    are we stuck in the motions again?

    Oh, but was it sweet
    In the vineyard
    Sangria, won't you bless
    The starving lips
    Such virgin lips
    Would choke on all this grime
    I've found some dirt under my nails
    I'll scratch and bite until...

    The dirt is out
    but sangria burns under my skin
    The dirt is out --
    I thought I'd never wash these hands again

    Under my skin....