calum hood as lines from my poems — a thread nobody asked for

he flips his saint beaded gold necklace and bites on the gleaming chain
tapping his foot soundlessly waiting impatiently for a change
tapping his foot soundlessly waiting impatiently for a change
i see stained glass windows of the notre dame in your eyes
the sunlight streaming through them and dancing softly in the sacred places
the sunlight streaming through them and dancing softly in the sacred places
with the last sunrays bathing us the room caught fire
dressed in madness and white ribbons, you tied me around your tongue
with my blue knees bathed in flourescent lights
i decided that touching the crimson sky just wasn't enough
dressed in madness and white ribbons, you tied me around your tongue
with my blue knees bathed in flourescent lights
i decided that touching the crimson sky just wasn't enough
i moved to soho and all i brought
is a bag full of my dreams
with some empty bottles and cigarettes for weeks
is a bag full of my dreams
with some empty bottles and cigarettes for weeks
when the last bicycle wheels turn the corner
and peaches diminish from the late summer air
wait for me in the place
where we altered the universe
and peaches diminish from the late summer air
wait for me in the place
where we altered the universe