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

it's getting too late
for you to go home
i'm running on empty but there's nowhere else to go
and you thank me for biding my time
i'm holding my tongue
what was i meant to say

it's getting too late

i’d made plans to head out of town.
sometimes i would give myself a reason to drive up north, claiming my old friends wanted to catch up or had something for me to collect. i think everyone knew i just wanted time to myself, to get away from the every day. and so i would be up and gone in the early morning, sun brushing over the hills as Kristian Matsson hummed through the speakers of my Ford. it was a drive that could take almost all day if i wanted it to, and i made sure of it. it was time for me to think, and process everything that i couldn’t while tuning out the constant buzz of inner city life, nine to five, never enough sleep or never enough of anything.

seven months earlier, my youngest brother had gotten sick. it wasn’t so bad, he was doing okay, we all said. perhaps I knew exactly what his future held, and I had made my decision of where to place myself in that future.
it was exhausting. i was exhausted.
mid-way through the afternoon, i stopped halfway down a side-road leading to a hill lookout. i parked, and sat on a wooden log to read, losing track of time as i gave myself in to imagination, and a world that wasn’t mine to fix. only when a drop of water fell directly onto the page before my eyes did i realise it was raining. distant rumbling and a glance to the west told me that, as it so often was, a storm was on the way. i packed my things, climbed into the car, and drove.

there is something terribly comforting about driving in steady rain. the windscreen wipers beat in time to a slower song, and the fuzziness of passing car headlights is soft and reassuring. i am isolated, by the waning light and the rain outside. i am safely in my car, driving carefully but consistently.

climbing and searching
leaving never having found
what they came for
only bodies remain
trust bonds

without words
i am not..

there's a difference between following your dreams and chasing them
i've spent countless night sitting alone staring at fleeting fractures spiraling hopelessly downwards
dripping through pores in the walls
seeping into our subconscious
i hear knocking and scratching
your spotless mind won't rest

focus is impossible

it will be ten days until i see you
on the 29th of may ten days after the 19th, only three days time until there's twenty more days to go
get rid of written words
i'm kicking each day out of it's cocooning mess
sick of tuesdays
chewing down on knotted shoulders knitted tightly to over-felt associations and lost once loved memory things that all too often trigger big, bad, angry, exquisite emotions to knock my toothbrush against my teeth and bite chunks out of my own cheeks to feed no one but myself

i've written five pages tonight

I wish I could draw or paint
I wish there was a way for me to express what I'm trying to say
So indescribable that my words stifle to find their own meaning and attempt to fit into these molds
Like square pegs
The way I see your face contort
Misshapen by misunderstanding
Inexplicable and undeniable

her face is in my head every second of ever day
every night before i go to sleep
every morning when my eyes first taste the light
she is there
not one word has been spoken between us
but i will never forget her face
her lips, her eyes