Sand

I'd like to believe
In one thing that you'd say to me
Would you like to leave?
When I try to talk it all, it turns out to be

Turn on the stove
In the little tiny rooms that our friend calls a home
My head fills with heat
From the knife in your hand to mine

I'd like to understand
What you think about why it seems so bad
It's only escape
From everything I know i'm weak
I know that I'm sad

Turn on the stove
In the tiny little room that our friend calls a home
My head fills with heat
From the knife in your hand to mine
Sand