Jenni Leigh Songtext
von End of a Year
Jenni Leigh Songtext
Bedsprings cut my knees. Shoulder blades, they dip deep.
Legs are numb, but still I wait. I arch to hear you breathe.
The licked hand. The licked hand. Shaken child in clothes to big for him.
Unsolicited opinion: I don′t like the men you're with.
A reoccurring idea: White sands with no end; a sunny day with no wind.
You firmly planted in my hands.
Christ, oh Christ, reveal the secret of your device to me.
If I pinned myself to planks would I receive attention now denied to me?
The licked hand. The licked hand. Shaken child in clothes to big for him.
Unsolicited opinion: I don′t like the men you're with.
A bug crawled up my ribcage. I left the farm and made my way.
Lone pigeon to migrate, the the thought that killed my brain.
Christ, oh Christ, reveal the secret of your device to me.
If I pinned myself to planks would I receive attention now denied to me?
The licked hand. The licked hand. Shaken child in clothes to big for him.
Unsolicited opinion: I don't like the men you′re with.
The licked hand. The licked hand. Tongue pressed to thumb bad.
The licked hand. The licked hand. I′m lost under your bed.
Legs are numb, but still I wait. I arch to hear you breathe.
The licked hand. The licked hand. Shaken child in clothes to big for him.
Unsolicited opinion: I don′t like the men you're with.
A reoccurring idea: White sands with no end; a sunny day with no wind.
You firmly planted in my hands.
Christ, oh Christ, reveal the secret of your device to me.
If I pinned myself to planks would I receive attention now denied to me?
The licked hand. The licked hand. Shaken child in clothes to big for him.
Unsolicited opinion: I don′t like the men you're with.
A bug crawled up my ribcage. I left the farm and made my way.
Lone pigeon to migrate, the the thought that killed my brain.
Christ, oh Christ, reveal the secret of your device to me.
If I pinned myself to planks would I receive attention now denied to me?
The licked hand. The licked hand. Shaken child in clothes to big for him.
Unsolicited opinion: I don't like the men you′re with.
The licked hand. The licked hand. Tongue pressed to thumb bad.
The licked hand. The licked hand. I′m lost under your bed.
Writer(s): Andrew Duggan, Hans Leibold, Patrick Kindlon, Sean Doody Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com