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An original song composition, recorded and played in acoustic guitar at home. |
| Sitting in the eye of this hurricane, we're paper planes refolded to hide the poetry, from raindrops threatening to smear us off. Chorus: When everything we are is so unsure and we don't know what we're waiting for, just throw the dice in pairs, again and again, hoping we'll land the same face. Upon the table, head's crash. Too tired to phone the ambulance. Alive with eight breaths every minute. We're too lost in the count down of sixty--fifty--forty--heartbeats. Chorus: When everything we are is so unsure and we don't know what we're waiting for, just throw the dice in pairs, again and again, hoping we'll land the same face. Bridge: Failing and spinning in this gamble, we're stacked like dominoes waiting to fall, one by one and all. Remembering the broken strings, the misspelled names that we are, let's fold ourselves like paper planes. We're poetry. Don't be smeared off. |