Description
Composer: David B. L. Smith Mixer: David B. L. Smith Mastering: Sean Hatfield Producer: David B. L. Smith Composer: Patrick Farrington Composer: Nicholas Yarbrough
Lyrics and translation
Original
Cut tree.
Hee, hee.
Don't believe in me.
Uh, uh.
You wanna be broken on the gravel, dropped on the anvil, fall out the plane of love, with no one above, and no one to dress you as a heathen, wash you in all that blood, your blood.
With no one above, and no one to judge you for receding, soften to defeat, a mangled and undressed mess, that press. Even though for damn sure it's gonna be stress.
Your winter is broken, spring and the fall isn't open. Going, ha, your summer is stolen.
Lost in the mess of your chosen omen, yeah.
Keeping my house so loud isn't only for me.
I know this about you now, your affection is a pressure to me.
Do you remember the ring of fire?
All that dancing, yeah, yeah.
Realize your winter is broken, spring and the fall isn't open.
Going, ha, your summer is stolen.
Lost in the heat of your swollen and faded, belabored and jaded, your pride. I don't ever give you up.
The chosen omen. Ha.