No, there is nothing special about the things that we do.
No, there is nothing special about the things that we do.
_________________________

LEFT SPEAKER:
I get pulled in only to fade out and it's happening all the time,
The same way the shore is sculpted by the tide at night.
And the thought of visiting that ocean in my mind
And of us sinking below the salty depths terrifies me to death.
You're so much more afraid of unknown depths and my end will be half as deep as that.
Would you give me your breath if it was my one last wish, drowning in saline?
I think about it every time my best friend and boyfriend are not speaking in the backseat.

RIGHT SPEAKER:
No, there is nothing special about the things that we do.
Everything breathes so just let it be and let me breathe as I share my bottle of Boone's.
The couch is at war with the tireless TV and it's eating me alive.
The only place left to sleep is underneath the kitchen table that I doubt has ever seen a knife.
And it is there that I find a bed cover and a boy to be my blanket.
But no blanket could ever beat being buried beneath the snow,
Outside at night in the blistering thirty-below.
______________________________

Outside at night in the blistering thirty-below,
I am still without the white out I have been waiting for.


Lyrics submitted by Triggerflamenco

The Newfound Interest In Connecticut song meanings
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