oh the things we take to our graves

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hereonplanetmars

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There's that moment again
The one I God-fearingly keep
Labeled too good to be true but too true to be dreamed
This one's kindly overflowing
With the way I've watched him speak
On tales of Agnes Marshall, 1880's ice cream queen

And he's got these stares that simmer
Like they've been sitting on the stove
And it's perfectly infuriating
Swear to god he knows
That he's got the way he's kissed me
Etched in the way he says my name
And I'd love him, but I'm scared of what we'll take

To the grave, mmm
To the grave, mmm

He is big brown eyes and dances
In that storybook frame
And I don't know how to tell him
That we'd rip out every page

But he's got these stares that simmer
Like they've been sitting on the stove
And it's perfectly infuriating
Swear to god he knows
That he's got the way he's kissed me
Etched in the way he says my name
And I'd love him, but I'm scared of what we'll take

There's a leak
In my chest
That's responsible for everything I've killed
And I can't
Ever look
In the mirror long enough to find it

Cause he's got these stares that simmer
Like they've been sitting on the stove
And it's perfectly infuriating
Swear to god he knows
That he's got the way he's kissed me
Etched in the way he says my name
And I'd love him, but I'm scared of what we'll take

To the grave, mmm
To the grave, mmm
To the grave, mmm
To the grave, mmm

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