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letra de eight - misao mcgregor

when i was eight years old, i perfected the art of being told
to be smaller than i could ever have been in a growing body
when i was eight months old, i remember the feeling of wind on my skin
and the texture of my mother’s hair, somehow she was always there
in my fingers, when i needed her most
there are sp-ces and gaps in my mind of places i’d rather not care to define
but the shame that i carry liеs heavily in the love i feel for you
thе hurt that accompanies every refrain, i’m reminded of just how
much pain that i must have caused you

when i was eight days away from making mistakes that i’d made before
i remember not knowing but trying to
find some answers in my gut or in my bones
when i was eight minutes late
to the dinner conversation of meeting your eyes
and finally feeling defined within the chaos of what i’d known

there are stones and hard places in my mind that keep me from letting these feelings reside anywhere but in my body
somehow they are always in my body but the hurt that accompanies every refrain is a fraction of how much my love’s filled with pain
can somebody teach me to break it down?

when i was eight hundred thousand miles away
from where we left off every fiber in my soul finally thanked you

- misao mcgregor

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