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letra de thirty-three, pt. 3: trauma - faunts

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you can ask and you can try
to drag it out of me
please don’t read between the lines
i’m not a book you’ll see

pages you’ve been sifting through
stare blankly on the floor
they’re not to be returned to me
the author’s closed the door

please close the door
clear the path for honest men
face down on the shore
i want to rest my weary head
and speak of it no more

time had passed but
wounds won’t heal
the damage isn’t clear
i’m in my darkеst hour now
and suddenly he appears

i’m not alonе, oh no

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