Letra de A Chalkboard Rebellion
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I've given the skin on my knees again. A martyr for a cause and a cause for concern.
(we tainted their history books, and they still haven't learned-
(we tainted their history books, and they still haven't learned-
that we aren't the heroes
we are the miscreant)
and break me like stained glass window panes and dig into my skin with words sharper than the knives I pulled from my back.
You aren't what you think anymore, as you kiss yourself to sleep and break down walls that you could never build with your own hands. were still on display, slitting our wrists in our own way.
Hold your own, because this ship is going to sink pretty soon and its everyone for themselves. When was the last time you trusted someone else, or had your breath taken away?
and here we are, retracing chalk lines to perfection (erasing the lines that we so intricately drew). I twist this blank notebook page to a parabola of sky-blue lines, the red margins rebel, falling short of wishing wells. they tell me more than knowledge can ever speak. and you fall, into what you teach. these ledges hold nothing but the tainted forgiveness our misled lives lead us to.
the cartography's a fake, the blueprints were erased. our melodies forlorn and discords in song. sing to me how you wiped the chalk of your palms.
and time and time again, i find I'm the iconoclast of a chalkboard rebellion. scream my name. "the letters were so elegant when rearranged".
we are the miscreant)
and break me like stained glass window panes and dig into my skin with words sharper than the knives I pulled from my back.
You aren't what you think anymore, as you kiss yourself to sleep and break down walls that you could never build with your own hands. were still on display, slitting our wrists in our own way.
Hold your own, because this ship is going to sink pretty soon and its everyone for themselves. When was the last time you trusted someone else, or had your breath taken away?
and here we are, retracing chalk lines to perfection (erasing the lines that we so intricately drew). I twist this blank notebook page to a parabola of sky-blue lines, the red margins rebel, falling short of wishing wells. they tell me more than knowledge can ever speak. and you fall, into what you teach. these ledges hold nothing but the tainted forgiveness our misled lives lead us to.
the cartography's a fake, the blueprints were erased. our melodies forlorn and discords in song. sing to me how you wiped the chalk of your palms.
and time and time again, i find I'm the iconoclast of a chalkboard rebellion. scream my name. "the letters were so elegant when rearranged".
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