歌词
A wading pool I tread restlessly through awaiting
The bloom of an ever loving you, the weight of the blue.
Failure, a threat that threads my wings into coats of lead.
It makes the balloon of your hope stone
Instead, and like that stone I am still.
The gusts of your love blow across my windowsill,
Offering nothing but a chill that
Freezes the innermost part of my soul.
Failure, a threat that threads my wings into coats of lead.
It makes the balloon of your hope stone
Instead, and like that stone I am still.
The gust of your love blows 'cross my
Windowsill, my windowsill, still, still, still as stone.