| She’s feeling the distance put its cold hand on her face
|
| And leaving a contact on the coat rack so I know that changed
|
| Things button up and turn around
|
| When she’s south-bound
|
| In a solid state, not satisfied
|
| Become irate while time liquefies
|
| Through our fingers without control
|
| Get in a box and it’s labeled 'Things
|
| That don’t get along with my studying'
|
| Blackout control
|
| She’s fooling her mind, feeling the distance stay in place
|
| I’m searching for context though I won’t hold that 'til she knows I’ve changed
|
| Things button up and turn around
|
| When she’s in town
|
| In a solid state, not satisfied
|
| Become irate while time liquefies
|
| Through our fingers without control
|
| Get in a box and it’s labeled 'Things
|
| That don’t get along with my studying'
|
| Blackout control
|
| When nights go dry
|
| And it feels they falling all the same
|
| I turn around and grab a cup
|
| And turn the night into a cunning mistake
|
| Things button up and soon she’s bound
|
| To turn around
|
| In a solid state, not satisfied
|
| Become irate while time liquefies
|
| Through our eye without control
|
| Get in a box and it’s labeled 'Things
|
| That don’t get along with my studying'
|
| Blackout control |