Staring through glasses with no lenses
At a tree climbing the sky.
Our father seems to have lost his senses
As he stands before our burning home

With an olive branch in one hand, the other holding circumstance;
Evidence, if you will…
Gasoline dreams from a wishing well.

I was so young; we were so innocent at a time when innocence made sense.
The flames laughed at us as I held you in my arms.
Youth would not be wasted on us; we both have come so far.

What have I become? How could this have happened?
I was so careful, I wore the garbs of a saint with stained-glass cufflinks.
I’d forgotten what I was looking for.
Power is flowing but the bulb is blown,
I have no faith to call my own.

With an olive branch in one hand, the other holding circumstance;
Evidence, if you will…
Gasoline dreams from a wishing well.
As I stumble onto broken knees, screaming at broken sleeping ghosts
On a hill with three trees…
The royalty is coming for my loyalty.

Even Carpenters make mistakes, measure once cut twice.
I am so very apathetic.

You abandon me.

Cradled in my mother’s arms, my reserves have been set free.


Lyrics submitted by xiamcathx

Pangolin Dreams song meanings
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2 Comments

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  • 0
    General Commentholy shit this band has amazing lyricsss !!
    damnnnn damnnnn damnn they are amazing !
    xxbrokenimagexxon February 16, 2009   Link
  • 0
    My OpinionStaring through glasses with no lenses
    At a tree climbing the sky.
    Our father seems to have lost his senses
    As he stands before our burning home

    With an olive branch in one hand, the other holding circumstance;
    Evidence, if you will…
    Gasoline dreams from a wishing well.

    I was so young; we were so innocent at a time when innocence made sense.
    The flames laughed at us as I held you in my arms.
    Youth would not be wasted on us; we both have come so far.

    What have I become? How could this have happened?
    I was so careful, I wore the garbs of a saint with stained-glass cufflinks.
    I’d forgotten what I was looking for.
    Power is flowing but the bulb is blown,
    I have no faith to call my own.

    With an olive branch in one hand, the other holding circumstance;
    Evidence, if you will…
    Gasoline dreams from a wishing well.
    As I stumble onto broken knees, screaming at broken sleeping ghosts
    On a hill with three trees…
    The royalty is coming for my loyalty.

    Even Carpenters make mistakes, measure once cut twice.
    I am so very apathetic.

    You abandon me.

    Cradled in my mother’s arms, my reserves have been set free.
    bforbakeron July 06, 2009   Link

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