Lyrics:
10 4 Eleanor Otras Canciones

: The biting, blowing cold Cuts directly to my soul My circulation slows And I feel old Until the spring I'll be hating everything Without a song to

: We've walked too far to fall to our knees. If there's an answer, it's lost on me. Is freedom so abstract that it can't be found without keeping someone

: I'm drunk on the vestiges of a dying scene What's left: impressions of what it really means. To be a part of something bigger than the system that

: It seems so clinical; the things we do are minimal. Half-heart smiles and token wit, But we're not saying shit. Our eyes bat back and forth, we're

: It's time to make something out of nothing. It's time to stop complaining. It's time to leave this fucking grief miles behind. There's nothing worth