Stitches

Stitches
Every hour is a season
Every minute lasts a day
So I sit here picking stitches
'Cos I find comfort in decay
How I long to fill my lungs

So tell me how does it feel to
Breathe air cold and clean
Cos I've been living on my knees
Since I was seventeen
Thought I was safe beneath the smoke
But even under cover
I still choke
And my wings are clipped but even if they weren't
I've not the guts to fly and leave behind the Earth
There's no poetry in my soul
Just a list of lies I've told
And I don't know how much longer I can hold on
So my wings are clipped but even if they weren't
I've not the guts to fly and leave behind the Earth
There's no poetry in my soul
Just a list of lies I've told
And I don't know how much longer I can hold on.