| Knuckles clenched to white as the landing gear retract for flight
My head's a balloon, inflating with the altitude
Ba ba ba ba...
Calm down, release your cares
The stale taste of recycled air |
| |
| I time every journey to bump into you, accidentally
I charm you and tell you of the boys I hate
All the girls I hate
All the words I hate
The clothes I hate
How I'll never be anything I hate
You smile, mention something that you like
How you'd have a happy life if you did the things you like
So find me and follow me through corridors, refectories and files
You must follow, leave this academic factory
You will find me in the matinee
The dark of the matinee
It's better in the matinee
The dark of the matinee is mine
Yes it's mine |
| |
| Cup your mouth to compress the sound,
Skinny dipping with the kids from a nearby town.
And everything that I said was true,
As the flashes blinded us in the photobooth.
Well, I lost track, and then those words were said.
You took the wheel and you steered us into my bed.
Soon we woke and I walked you home,
And it was pretty clear that it was hardly love.
And as the summer's ending,
The cool air will rush your hard heart away.
You were so condescending.
And this is all that's left:
The empty bottles, spent cigarettes.
So pack a change of clothes, 'cause it's time to move on.
-photobooth
by: death cab for cutie
i want my old english class back.
xoxo. maiLe. |
| |
