paroles de chanson Pressed - Deacon Smith

Maybe you smell like her
Maybe you remind me of a ghost of a good thing
Confessions stained upon the dashboard
Maybe I could make the most
If you'll let me
Since I've set free, I've been

Circling hemispheres
And mirrors are friends, and friends are saints
And every time that it gets hard, I know that always it will

Come around again

Maybe it's the lack of an address
I confess, I see us different now
Don't you
Stressful as a bridge, a silly way to say I'm pressed
More than you know
But you know that I've been

Trapped inside the house
And pouting's hard with herbal spouse
And I could pray that grave away
But stray and always it will

Come around again

Fade to black in a ransacked shack
Ramshackle act, back-asswards, wack
And an itch so niche, so pink in its brashness
Action, cut the tape and play back
In a faction that I always knew that I was tapped in to
I'm in two
Chew the bone for a few
Not a home, nor a pew, nor putrid stew
It's in lieu of a view unseen, but it's true
Never meant for it to hurt you
Never meant for it to

Come around again