Fairweather Lyrics
I Dread the Time when Your Mouth Begins to Call me Hunter

I must confess that nothings changed for now.
While knives that line sweet conversations still
find a way, into our beds while we sleep. Can't
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you see that there's an ocean that drawn a line,
between our bodies and our minds, we look for
ghost, and that's what we find. Will we bury who
we loved or is the ground, to cold to break? Well
we slept our way through knowing what to do.