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Waxahatchee
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Half Moon
Curious impulse drifting slow in a state
In the darkness, in music, our imperfect escape
You're a good girl, a daughter of liars avenged
And you paint such a picture, the departed, unhinged
You make a splash
You're adored by strangers through glass
When we fuck up our rhythm this idea is a curse
I invite myself in and I think I kissed you first
But this glimpse at the past, it is tattered and trite
Our love tastes like sugar but it pulls all the life out of me
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Out of me
You cry to an old friend, to a hole in your heart
To a ghost in the fading strokes of your glorious art
And she lied when she said she would call you today
And you know I couldn't blame her
The pain that you make
It never dies
I hung it up in a wistful disguise
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