cobain

popraprock

Grey skies are bleeding on my skin,
Cold rain crawls where I’ve been.
Empty streets hum a broken tune,
And the sun forgot to rise at noon.
I keep chasing ghosts in the feedback,
Every scream just keeps me intact.
In the echoes in the static, I’m alive,
In the noise, I find a place to hide.
Every scar’s a song I never played,
Every tear’s a word I never said.
Shadows bite the edge of my room,
Posters fade in the cigarette fumes.
I wear my pain like a thrift store shirt,
Ripped at the seams but it still works.
I keep chasing ghosts in the feedback,
Every scream just keeps me intact.
In the echoes in the static, I’m alive,
In the noise, I find a place to hide.
Every scar’s a song I never played,
Every tear’s a word I never said.
Maybe I’m just a whisper in the dark,
Or a match burning out before the spark.
But if I’m gone before I’m through,
Play my song, let it bleed for you.
In the echoes in the static, I’m alive,
In the noise, I find a place to hide.
Every scar’s a song I never played,
Every tear’s a word I never said.