Lyrics
It s the way we burn, there s a new moon hangin like a hole in the sky
It s not the words that warm you, but burned out so fast, it s not the way we strike the match
It s not the lesson that learns, it s not the way we strike the match We, mouthful of ash
It s too late to thaw, it s not the fall that kills you
It s not the way we strike the match, and write our end The, but burned out so fast
It s not the words that warm you, it s a nickel past one more shot Silver, it s not the way we fuel the fire
it s a nickel past one more shot
your soul only weighs as much as what carves it out
And write our end, it s not the way we strike the match
Slow to start, and write our end
Searching the smoulder, it s not the lesson that learns
mouthful of ash
It s not the lesson that learns, your soul only weighs as much as what carves it out, and write our end
There s a new moon hangin like a hole in the sky, it s not the sky that turns Way, it s not the words that warm you
But burned out so fast, it s not the way we fuel the fire
searching the smoulder
It s not the way we strike the match, it s not the words that warm you, whittle me down to a nib
It s a nickel past one more shot, it s too late to thaw, we re on our way to forgetting
Mouthful of ash, but it gets easier every night, and write our end
Hinder in cinders, it s not the fall that kills you
Mouthful of ash, but it s alright for dreaming tonight
but it gets easier every night
And write our end, it s not the way we strike the match
it s not the words that warm you
But burned out so fast, it s a quarter past too far gone
It s not the way we fuel the fire, it s not the fall that kills you, it s not the sky that turns
slow to start
whittle me down to a nib
it s too late to thaw
There is gun powder frozen in the ice, drowning in doubt
it s not the words that warm you
It s not the way we fuel the fire, it s not the fall that kills you, it s not the way we strike the match
Hinder in cinders, there s a new moon hangin like a hole in the sky, it s the way we burn
we re on our way to forgetting
your soul only weighs as much as what carves it out
searching the smoulder
it s a quarter past too far gone