Slip Through My Hands Songtext
von The Parlor Mob
Slip Through My Hands Songtext
Mother, Mother
I can′t take another
Moment here the way that it is
Heartache, heartache
It's a fear I can′t shake
It heals and then it's broken again
The things I love seem to slip through my hands
Like a big red balloon or a grain of sand
But I see the future through the eyes of the past
Still I somehow want to make this last
They say the darkest hour
Is just before a flower
Opens to the light of the sun
And you're my reason
My softly changing season
Tell me I′m the only one
The things I love seem to slip through my hands
Like a big red balloon or a grain of sand
But I see the future through the eyes of the past
Still I somehow want to make this last
Still I somehow want to make this last
All my life I′ve been fooling myself
Trying to make the wrong things right
Like a birds against the cold hard wind
Trying to find the end of the night
The things I love seems to slip through my hands
Like a big red balloon or a grain of sand
But I see the future through the eyes of the past
Still I somehow want to make this last
Still I somehow want to make this last
I can′t take another
Moment here the way that it is
Heartache, heartache
It's a fear I can′t shake
It heals and then it's broken again
The things I love seem to slip through my hands
Like a big red balloon or a grain of sand
But I see the future through the eyes of the past
Still I somehow want to make this last
They say the darkest hour
Is just before a flower
Opens to the light of the sun
And you're my reason
My softly changing season
Tell me I′m the only one
The things I love seem to slip through my hands
Like a big red balloon or a grain of sand
But I see the future through the eyes of the past
Still I somehow want to make this last
Still I somehow want to make this last
All my life I′ve been fooling myself
Trying to make the wrong things right
Like a birds against the cold hard wind
Trying to find the end of the night
The things I love seems to slip through my hands
Like a big red balloon or a grain of sand
But I see the future through the eyes of the past
Still I somehow want to make this last
Still I somehow want to make this last
Writer(s): Matthew Smith Radosevich, Samuel Bey, Paul Ritchie, Anthony Chick, Mark Melicia, David Rosen Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com