Type Three - Anberlin

I have my reasons for the vices I embrace
a world of treasons and i'm there only escape
no one else here has conversations that drowned their head
16 is nothing and never will be until i am dead.
don't bite the hand that feeds you baby
take hold the hand that needs you lately
i don't want to wait on you anymore
don't bite the hand that feeds you baby
daydream that the world stands still
dancing through the fibers of time
maybe i just want to hold something that was never meant to be mine
i look to heaven to save me and you call me naive
rather been a hopeless lover than cursed with disbelief
don't fight the hands that need you lately.
listen carefully to the words that i choose
speak only when you are spoken to

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