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xcult_classicx · 08-22-2008, 06:38 PM

some lyrics i wrote for my band.
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Small Hands

The weight of the morning broke even over my side of town without so much as a sign or a warning. She stood from the window, eyes fixed to the side with nails streaming from the strands of her hair. She was cold, still, and tense. "Call me in a week." she said, "call me when I come back." The pouring of the rain was abrupt and ran as vulgar as the sun that sprung between the clouds to mock us, pointing fingers with the sharper end of a circle, saying "now's not the right time, it's never the right time." Clocks rose and shifted in unison to the pulse of my beating heart, swaying to the rhythm of the trees we bent with our thoughts and uprooted with our words.

Time is always shorter than i think it is, but that isn't a reason to keep myself from believing that the minutes i spend with the people i love will draw themselves longer than the months we'll spend divided by the distance of earth and water. Time transcends all barriers, she has no customs and she has no traditions. She clothes us in grains of sand and blankets us constantly with the emptiness to her abundance. (Short arms for long promises, half-closed palms for half-closed doors.)

Days aren't enough to last a lifetime but we never have the right words to say to stop time and her bidding. Time is always shorter than i think it is, but that won't stop the minutes i spend with people i love from drawing themselves longer than months.

08-22-2008, 06:38 PM	#1 (permalink)
xcult_classicx Offset Guitar Operator Join Date: Nov 2006 Location: Manila, Philippines Posts: 1,149	small hands some lyrics i wrote for my band. ------------------------------------- Small Hands The weight of the morning broke even over my side of town without so much as a sign or a warning. She stood from the window, eyes fixed to the side with nails streaming from the strands of her hair. She was cold, still, and tense. "Call me in a week." she said, "call me when I come back." The pouring of the rain was abrupt and ran as vulgar as the sun that sprung between the clouds to mock us, pointing fingers with the sharper end of a circle, saying "now's not the right time, it's never the right time." Clocks rose and shifted in unison to the pulse of my beating heart, swaying to the rhythm of the trees we bent with our thoughts and uprooted with our words. Time is always shorter than i think it is, but that isn't a reason to keep myself from believing that the minutes i spend with the people i love will draw themselves longer than the months we'll spend divided by the distance of earth and water. Time transcends all barriers, she has no customs and she has no traditions. She clothes us in grains of sand and blankets us constantly with the emptiness to her abundance. (Short arms for long promises, half-closed palms for half-closed doors.) Days aren't enough to last a lifetime but we never have the right words to say to stop time and her bidding. Time is always shorter than i think it is, but that won't stop the minutes i spend with people i love from drawing themselves longer than months.