TillTheVulturesCome
Elmo O'Connor, Greaf
If I had to sum you up in a couple of words, I would not be able to
Where the feelings stem, is far beyond dialect, it's somewhat beautiful
Far too many thoughts clashing, till there is not one, every time I act surprised
With my eyes is not the only way I'm seeing you
Cut the mountain I would still have you in my view
You are etched into my skull until the vultures come
And gather up my bones, and fly south for the winter
You are etched into my soul until the vultures come
And gather up my bones, and fly south for the winter