Summer Storms Songtext
von Typesetter

My senses for seasons are skewed.
I′m a letter in the mail that will never arrive.
How did I do at getting out of this?
At seeming confident?
A constant search for validation.
You're the only one.
The summer storm.
I am tattered, finally open, a never ending novel.
I′m a million little pieces on the floor of a house that you don't live in anymore.