Текст песни
For hands that won't come back once more.
One empty hook beside the frame,
The smallest things still keep your name.
Some people fit beneath your skin; that doesn't mean you let them in.
Don't mistake my comfort tone; I know exactly what went wrong.
It is like a promise past its date: what to lose and what to save.
And I stand here inside this place where the silence wears your face.
I won't beg for what is gone; I don't feed what will not grow.
One empty hook beside the frame,
The smallest things still keep your name.
Some people fit beneath your skin; that doesn't mean you let them in.
Don't mistake my comfort tone; I know exactly what went wrong.
It is like a promise past its date: what to lose and what to save.
And I stand here inside this place where the silence wears your face.
I won't beg for what is gone; I don't feed what will not grow.