A memory, a sense of fear,
The sound of a door, a stranger drawing near.
I don't recall seeing you up close,
Just the blood running from my nose.
Later on, I got to know you,
You were fun to be around.
As I sat on the couch,
Waiting for you to speak, waiting to be heard.
First of the three,
Second after me,
Last of the three,
Who will be holding your hand?
I can tell you of the happiest of times,
Short-lived.
Right between a trauma and the saddest day of my life.
All that's left now is anger,
That I always carry with me,
I ask you, what's left of your decency?
You could have visited me,
Or gone that extra mile for her too.
First of the three,
Second after me,
Last of the three,
Who will be there, holding your hand?
So who will be there? You haven't thought yet?
Abyssal Ink Records - Pillars (feat. Little Boy Black) Lyrics
Abyssal Ink Records - Pillars (feat. Little Boy Black) Lyrics
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English
A memory, a sense of fear,
The sound of a door, a stranger drawing near.
I don't recall seeing you up close,
Just the blood running from my nose.
Later on, I got to know you,
You were fun to be around.
As I sat on the couch,
Waiting for you to speak, waiting to be heard.
First of the three,
Second after me,
Last of the three,
Who will be holding your hand?
I can tell you of the happiest of times,
Short-lived.
Right between a trauma and the saddest day of my life.
All that's left now is anger,
That I always carry with me,
I ask you, what's left of your decency?
You could have visited me,
Or gone that extra mile for her too.
First of the three,
Second after me,
Last of the three,
Who will be there, holding your hand?
So who will be there? You haven't thought yet?
The sound of a door, a stranger drawing near.
I don't recall seeing you up close,
Just the blood running from my nose.
Later on, I got to know you,
You were fun to be around.
As I sat on the couch,
Waiting for you to speak, waiting to be heard.
First of the three,
Second after me,
Last of the three,
Who will be holding your hand?
I can tell you of the happiest of times,
Short-lived.
Right between a trauma and the saddest day of my life.
All that's left now is anger,
That I always carry with me,
I ask you, what's left of your decency?
You could have visited me,
Or gone that extra mile for her too.
First of the three,
Second after me,
Last of the three,
Who will be there, holding your hand?
So who will be there? You haven't thought yet?
Writer: Fred Rosa
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid