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von Devon Loch

I will remember when i go to sleep
I sense the ceiling coming low
And if you think about it for a day
We could stumble on our swag

And the dust that you throw on my tongue
It′s turning slow it's turning to what
What it meant to be, what it meant to be

Come on you won′t be late, all right?


I could drink my way out of here
It should be like a social logout
I will delegate my consciousness
To the law enforcement

And the dust that you throw on my tongue
It's turning slow it's turning to what
What it meant to be, what it meant to be

And the pit you dug me. now it′s yours

And the dust that you throw on my tongue
It′s turning slow it's turning to what
What it meant to be, what it meant to be

And the pit you dug me. now it′s yours