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lyrics
It’s been a long, long time since you last claimed contentment. If you never close your hands, you can’t expect to keep anything in them. I trace template nights through telephone wires. We exist.
Our distant words try to divide the distance, and reach for a remedy, as the space swells in-between our bodies built of bone, and blood and uncertainty. We speak words so sweet, anticipate fractures in everything. I offer what I have to give. You wait for the things you want. Will white roses ever be enough? Will white roses be enough?
How strange it is to think, we were once strangers. Now, we’re ashamed to admit we reclaimed our former state. Accustomed to the way pink and blue dissolve into grey, I’ve seen it in some clouds. I felt it in ourselves, in spaces our bodies both know-- nothing subsists, nothing new will grow.
Our bodies built of bone and blood and uncertainty. You speak words so sweet. You expect the worst of everything. I offer what I have to give. You wait for the things you want. Will white roses ever be enough? Will white roses be enough?
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