Ropes
from The Florals by The Florals
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lyrics
The waves are rising, I need to see the horizon
My ship is sinking and I have been thinking
I need to see your face
Deliver me from this place
My body’s bruised and I have been holding on so
Tight to all the things that keep me here in the deep
Let go of your ropes and hold a little tighter to
His hands are holding you and he will always fight for you
I rather have scars than open wounds
From what was left inside this room
Festering, infected with, all that I was and now who this is
I fell asleep for eleven years straight while all the things that I hate
Would pile up in the corner of the room convincing me that I couldn’t move
A muscle, a thought, the things they brought and I sought.
What haven’t I got?
A needle and thread, a tired head, a child alone, never shown, continually sewn through skin and bone.
Am I always prone to this old ghost?
Up and down by hands, personal lands foreclosed the first chance
Through the gates but not the door, you can’t reach the lock when you’re on the floor
But you’d adore my core. A lure to report, or healing?
It doesn't sound appealing his reeling out of flesh and bone
Can’t you see that I’m already sewn?
It’s fixed, though I’m not convinced
Festering infection, imperfection, this section unread
Open up the book and I bled and said, more like pleading
“It’s eating away at me, and my own skin.”
Where do I begin, or does it just end with the revealing of men and men’s minds?
Though you see it all the time through me and my own sighs and goodbyes
But what do you see in me through your own eyes?
My ship is sinking and I have been thinking
I need to see your face
Deliver me from this place
My body’s bruised and I have been holding on so
Tight to all the things that keep me here in the deep
Let go of your ropes and hold a little tighter to
His hands are holding you and he will always fight for you
I rather have scars than open wounds
From what was left inside this room
Festering, infected with, all that I was and now who this is
I fell asleep for eleven years straight while all the things that I hate
Would pile up in the corner of the room convincing me that I couldn’t move
A muscle, a thought, the things they brought and I sought.
What haven’t I got?
A needle and thread, a tired head, a child alone, never shown, continually sewn through skin and bone.
Am I always prone to this old ghost?
Up and down by hands, personal lands foreclosed the first chance
Through the gates but not the door, you can’t reach the lock when you’re on the floor
But you’d adore my core. A lure to report, or healing?
It doesn't sound appealing his reeling out of flesh and bone
Can’t you see that I’m already sewn?
It’s fixed, though I’m not convinced
Festering infection, imperfection, this section unread
Open up the book and I bled and said, more like pleading
“It’s eating away at me, and my own skin.”
Where do I begin, or does it just end with the revealing of men and men’s minds?
Though you see it all the time through me and my own sighs and goodbyes
But what do you see in me through your own eyes?
credits
from The Florals,
released May 12, 2015
license
all rights reserved
tags
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