| TillTheVulturesCome |
|---|
| Where the feelings stem, is far beyond dialect, it’s somewhat beautiful |
| Far too many thoughts clashing, till there is not one, every time I act |
| surprised |
| With my eyes is not the only way I’m seeing you, cut the mountain I would still |
| have you in my view |
| You are etched into my skull till the vultures come |
| And gather up my bones, and fly south for the winter |
| You are etched into my soul till the vultures come |
| And gather up my bones, and fly south for the winter |
