I place my hands up on the clouds I hear voices
between the walls like a silence for a broken boy
I can feel the cold pushing through the window You
standing against the side searching with your fingers
I see the carpet on my old floor I palce my soul
convenient a early morning dawn
You can hear him writing songs he sings
with a broken tongue
My eyes is staring
and the lampshade is playing with my bodys flow
I fall deeper into a sleep so far away
I just aspire from a bad dream about a boy
it feels like its close
My head pounds from my fathers voice
I put up walls
until the clouds my hand falls
I wish I wasn't that boy
I wishes that they replace my
to a better home