| Space is still the place
|
| The weight of weightless faces faces straight
|
| Our dreams are lies replaced
|
| We reach out past the trace until it’s gone
|
| Sweet Madelene
|
| You don’t know my name
|
| Deep as the heat
|
| I can’t stay the same
|
| Red hands, suntipped pine
|
| A strange fruit left inside
|
| I will climb my way out
|
| I don’t ever wanna turn around
|
| Sweet Madelene
|
| You can let go of your ghost
|
| Fruit from my lips drips on your whipping post
|
| Southern charm, bred of harm
|
| Surrender to the sound so close
|
| I will climb my way out
|
| I don’t ever wanna turn around
|
| Space is still the place
|
| The weight of weightless faces faces straight
|
| Our dreams are lies replaced
|
| We reach out past the trace until it’s gone |