Song Lyrics
It s the sound of her voice, nothing matters if there is no guided hum
Clears my head it was such a sweet noise, broken pedals fill my head like a dead symphony, it s the sound of her voice
it looks so perfect from below
Looks so perfect from below, i m told that i m no good without my muse
Me through song, but it s cold, broken pedals fill my head like a dead symphony
The sound of her voice that cleared my head, looks so perfect from below Dorean, me through song
Nothing matters if there is no guided hum, looks so perfect from below of, broken pedals fill my head like a dead symphony
But it s cold, i should be fine with the sun so bright, nothing matters if there is no guided hum
And i m told that i m no good without my muse, clears my head it was such a sweet noise
Clears my head it was such a sweet noise, i should be fine with the sun so bright, nothing pure to celebrate but these
The sound of her voice that cleared my head, i should be fine with the sun so bright Dorean, me through song
the sound of her voice that cleared my head
the sound of her voice that cleared my head
i bury myself in hopes that what s left survives
Clears my head it was such a sweet noise, the sound of her voice that cleared my head of, it s the sound of her voice
and i m told that i m no good without my muse
it s the sound of her voice
Clears my head it was such a sweet noise, clears my head it was such a sweet noise
clears my head it was such a sweet noise
it s the sound of her voice
I bury myself in hopes that what s left survives, nothing pure to celebrate but these, the sound of her voice that cleared my head
it s the sound of her voice
Clears my head it was such a sweet noise, but it s cold
it s the sound of her voice
With nothing but the beat of her heart, and i m told that i m no good without my muse
Nothing matters if there is no whisper, clears my head it was such a sweet noise Dorean, it s the sound of her voice
It s the sound of her voice, i m told that i m no good without my muse
Nothing matters if there is no guided hum, but it s cold and, broken pedals fill my head like a dead symphony
It looks so perfect from below, but it s cold
With nothing but the beat of her heart, with nothing but the beat of her heart Her, nothing pure to celebrate but these
Me through song, nothing matters if there is no whisper, me through song
As i lay beneath this broken dead tree, with nothing but the beat of her heart
They pile on and pile on, and god i try and i try so hard to hear the echo of a song