Lyrics:
yourself No one cares how the artist struggles To make paintings and quaint things upon the shelf Woesome I But I don't want to die Oh let me sleep through
it fucking meant An old man's face reflects back at me. Woesome, weary, I've never thought so clearly It gets worse
and woesome mood, as if some dark deed he was off to do I am a girl, I am a soul, I had a boy who made me whole Now he is gone and I am dead, so he's my song
consent dwells Whether winsome or woe-some it's where your you resides It's the sacred self The holy thou The clarity of identity It's the temple of your
of you while you fade away And I'll sing for you, but everything I say Is a helpless and a woesome Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Discuss these woesome Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In