Frameworks все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

There's a hell paved of wants and desires, and a sea of misery waiting to conspire. Waves of men with no direction in a constant limbo of endless repetition. Ships built to be the sent out to sea, but meant to sit and rot. Love just doesn't exist when it's all just a matter of who's better convinced. Nothings left waiting for us. The greatest war we have to face, is when love and lust share the same face. Happening all in a matter of time, when we're clinched to whatever gets us by. "There is a loneliness in this world so great that you can see it in the slow movement of a clock. people so tired. mutilated either by love or no love." Love is dead. We watched it kill itself as it hung from our living room ceiling fan. Love is dead and it's never coming back.

Misery resides where misery is welcome. It’s all mine to wallow or welcome in. Into my life, an unwanted ownership. Nothing moves me, and everyone’s well aware. A drink to cope, a drink to think, a drink to sleep it off, to any calling concern that I know that I don’t deserve. Drown in the fluid ounce of every word. Smiled through every blur. Life’s a labor but a greater war. I’ve only known the texture of its floor. Clawing through small scratches in the surface. What we once held dear becomes our torment. Temporary fix or not, a fix is still a fix. Falling through all the holes that we’ve torn up. What we once held dear becomes our torment. Temporary fix or not, a fix is still a fix. Now it’s gone, and I’m back to this. But now you’re gone, and I’ll raise my glass and drink the ceilings in. And try to make these walls less thin. Or every thought of you drowns out.

Dust and bones. Days and nights, and years on the ropes. Sunrise, sunset. It's never enough. The things that we're taught. The lives that we live. The deaths that we're dealt. It's all coming undone. The walls are rotting from the inside. Some arrangement of life. My discord, My strife. This is our life. Lived from the inside of a cloudy window. When forever is never enough. When we've waste all our time looking for better ways out. Chills looking for the next spine to crawl up. Chokes looking for the next neck to hold up. A new cancer under the breath of grace, in our own grand scheme of all bound things. I want pride, and I want beauty under no remorse. Under no such stake. I'm so afraid of the things I can't change. As in the way lighting steals the life from a tree. Long before is ever ready to leave. I hope everyone forgets my name. Take me back to when alone was all we were. Back when every day wasn't a blessing we didn't deserve.

All vacant, all despondent. I’m the same bitter sense of ccomplishments mistaken and pawned as a false sense of courage. Wills stretched so thin, misconstrued and bent. We can swing for the fences, but distance is still distance. Piece by piece we chip and flake. Stitch and stitch, but never sew anything. Piece by piece, chip away, feel the same. Watching my reflection turn into someone great, ascending the ranks of my own personal hierarchy, never occurred and will never defer me from digging my own hole inch by inch. Traded in my spine for a gut of guilt. Wore it just the same, as if no one could tell. Wear it just the same, nobody can tell. Always wanting, never earning something more. No straight road ever carved my content heart. Choked up on all my own swallowed pride. Throwing myself down the stairs of my life. I can’t help myself. Any part of me.

300 Miles was just far enough to never live up to what won't fix itself. Its not enough, no its never enough to give and to take. To sit and to wait. When it all just feels the same. Has it started to feel like home? So afraid of calling it so. Seldom doses of security and minor growth. Has started to feel lonesome? So afraid of admitting it as so. All bottled up, and disguised so no one could ever know. I'd blame myself for always wanting more, but first impressions are nothing behind closed doors. Whats more to expect from your face to the floorboard, than the color of the tile floor. The only thing that you deserve is a mirror with a hand to hold. A perfect reflection of your perception of God and love. If time is all it takes I'd rip the hands from every clock just to never feel a thing. Perfect paintings still fall down, Some things just don't work out. Perfect paintings still fall down and some things just fall apart. If time is all it takes I'd rip the hands from every clock to never feel a thing. Prides a crutch. grief's not enough. Give up the ghost; or just grow up. Miles away; Empty apartment and beds. My wasted effort on things just not meant to mend. The perfect color of the tile floor. We'd always assume the worst. The perfect color of the tile floor. The perfect shade of black and gray. The perfect picture of you and him.