Counting on your fingers to abide to all your thoughts and pretty dots
Words aren’t even traces yet, you’ll count on patience gone
The porch will soon be rotted given time
With time we’d watch metal rust
Watch the locomotive whistles as they pass
With patrons we’d recognize someday

Lyrics submitted by scycis

Your Sunday Best song meanings
Add your thoughts

No Comments

sort form View by:
  • No Comments

Add your thoughts

Log in now to tell us what you think this song means.

Don’t have an account? Create an account with SongMeanings to post comments, submit lyrics, and more. It’s super easy, we promise!

Back to top