Lyrics to The Front That Welcomes
I crave for even the faintest touch of inspiration.
Tho, it's rivers have seemingly dried.
The past few weeks have gone by like nameless citizens,
in a waiting line.
Scattered grey clouds have altered my plan.
I must dig deep.
An amalgam of taunting voices have wittingly took the lime light away.
Words and actions have somehow lost some of their sweetness.
As I search for some sign,
and collect the shattered pieces,
I regain my thirst for optimism.
Deaf will be these ears; to your serenades.
Blind will be these eyes; to your charades.
And cold will be the front, that welcomes you
(Thanks to Brady for these lyrics)
Tho, it's rivers have seemingly dried.
The past few weeks have gone by like nameless citizens,
in a waiting line.
Scattered grey clouds have altered my plan.
I must dig deep.
An amalgam of taunting voices have wittingly took the lime light away.
Words and actions have somehow lost some of their sweetness.
As I search for some sign,
and collect the shattered pieces,
I regain my thirst for optimism.
Deaf will be these ears; to your serenades.
Blind will be these eyes; to your charades.
And cold will be the front, that welcomes you
(Thanks to Brady for these lyrics)
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