How do we know what we are doing?
Just twenty-one,
No fear of turning
Twenty-two or twenty-three
I'll hold it closed
I'll keep it clean
I'll clutch your heart until it beats
How can we fight that which we cannot see?
This house is full of ghosts,
Fuck ups and memories
I'll clutch your heart
Until it beats
If it takes eternity
I'll clutch your heart until it beats
I believe there is propensity for good in our hearts
There is proof that we resemble our creators
Little pieces of our parents that govern who we are
Little histories transcribed in dancing helices
Our house is full of light to make for easy reading
Bookworm, you should've learned
That love and grief are the same thing
Your cluttered art and poetry
I read becomes
A part of me
Cluttered art and poetry
I believe there is propensity for good in our hearts
There is proof that we resemble our creators
Little pieces of our parents that govern who we are
Little histories transcribed in dancing helices
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