when did our apartment turn to ruins on an island?
where lovers used to live but they've been gone for quite some time and
cards and clothes are artifacts and clues we left behind and
when did all the passion turn to numbers and statistics?
i've been trying to grasp it but it's all just hieroglyphics
we tried a little space but we flew too far to fix it
when did thoughts of wedding rings
become just stranger things?
we used to dance around the apartment
now our footprints in the carpet
when did our vibration turn to awkward bits of friction?
when did our vacation turn to fossils and to fiction?
all we do is fight and now we can't break the addiction
when did thoughts of wedding rings
become just stranger things?
we used to dance around the apartment
now our footprints in the carpet