Its too cold
The butterflies died and lay in the snow.
We're too old.
To shelter dreams of the lost tomorrow.
Bleeding innosence.
From the first kiss that meant something to absolutely no one.
We wear pretty smiles so that the self-made
matchmakers can feel like they did something.
3 months no more.
I'm such a selfish bastard
that I couldnt see the truth; you know you and me could last it.
But I felt like something new.
That feeling of abandon that I love to give to you.
I know I'm lousy with excuses but I think that one is due.
Was it easy? To believe me? Always hoping for that way home.
Familiarity will soon be the death of me.
All our friends wonder what happened to their plan.
3 months no more.
I feel like I cant bleed.
3 months no more.
Still I hear the fallen wings.
