Wallingford Is Still Doomed

Midnight passes through the window and i cant sleep without sinking. my head is a wreck from all the times i cant recall, and I'm sorry that i let it pass. rest assured it never sounded the same to me. in my head I am trying to gain a sense of where i started, but its all rolling hills, and its all turning leaves. like broken records, broken souls, broken feet and the songs sounded the same to me. from my window i watch you and i scream so loud. so that you could hear, so that you could hear and then i tell myself just to wake up/ this happens everyday, this happens everyday and i can trace the blood in my hands to the blood in my arms and i can trace the blood in my arms to the blood in my heart. it still beats