| Your brother will wake up
|
| Turning his face towards the door
|
| These blinds are reeking stripes of the sun
|
| Go home, go home, go home
|
| Your brother will stretch out
|
| His spell to strike that hits his eye short
|
| A chain of beads he wore around his wrists
|
| I wore around your own
|
| In seven little minutes he started a life
|
| In every bit of sounds of some lover’s night
|
| You’ll never dream of this room again
|
| 'Cause it’s melt to the wall, in a wooden frame
|
| That says love doesn’t take you anywhere else but here
|
| This kind of love doesn’t take you anywhere else but here
|
| Your brother will wake up
|
| Until I hold up out of your heart
|
| I’m caught in sheets with stains of makeup
|
| Your bed of rough accord
|
| You’re living a brother
|
| Who hides a face just like your own
|
| That’s why you turn to one another
|
| In seven little minutes he started a life
|
| In every bit of sounds of some lover’s night
|
| You’ll never dream of this room again
|
| 'Cause it’s melt to the wall, in a wooden frame
|
| That says love doesn’t take you anywhere else but here
|
| This kind of love doesn’t take you anywhere else but here
|
| In seven little minutes he started a life
|
| In every bit of sounds of some lover’s night
|
| You’ll never dream of this room again
|
| 'Cause it’s melt to the wall, in a wooden frame
|
| That says love doesn’t take you anywhere else but here
|
| This kind of love doesn’t take you anywhere else but here |