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mimosa alexis - cradles to grave lyrics
[verse1]
aghast of the lullabies and sirens that could lure you outside
asleep on different rooms would be an assassin´s sun at midnight
ambitions die all the time, what if i´m your young days trite?
and love confessions turn into _n_lysis, does bonnie mean sh_t to clyde?
apprehension of the day, the sunday´s farmers market´s oranges aren´t ripe
aquelike face, your marginal note of grace couldn´t so your color would gripe
[chorus]
if i had 3 cradles to grave, i would love you in two, to see what it’s like
to shiver from longing frigidity at a hag ridden bedside
the chеrry threes of isolation, worries me of that highly strung grind
cherry pickеd season in my holiday house, frost covers the view to outside
to avoid the desire, sending at wit ends warrant for you worldwide
after centuries old camaraderie, the pristine blaze must have survived
memorials at the corner table where two lachrymose painted lovers dined
declarations of war for a life and death _n_logues that got mired
[verse2]
adders bane that k!lls by bite, but if you don´t touch the mind has died
antidote to my neuroses, in our neonate kind of fight
airedales need love all the time, what if you find new dwelling in the bayside?
alluvion in your old edifice, i built my own bayside in the same cubicle i cried
apostasy of your wake up pinches, i pinched your notes for my epicenter fight
airborne is pr_ne to mender, you had the manumission to mount as a kite
[chorus]
my breaking point was that i could be the swan song as a poetic rewind
but poetry is dead if the principle element became only whisper in the wind
the cherry threes of isolation, worries me of that highly strung grind
cherry picked season in my holiday house, frost covers the view to outside
to avoid the desire, sending at wit ends warrant for you worldwide
memorials at the corner table where two lachrymose painted lovers dined
leaving prints on silver ware, as the one golden day that survived
if we had 3 cradles to grave, could we last through every liaison heist?
[bridge]
my breaking point was that, what if i arrived
after coons ages, and saw how omens don´t operate on obliged
the glass ceiling put between us, my condolences weren´t consigned
the adders bane wasn´t in both of us, it was me, who was quarantined
from you, the air must have run out, i hold too tight to this two people clique
3 cradles to grave, catalyzing rival coffins between me and a lachrymose colleague
[outro]
i was the swan song as a poetic rewind
watching as two blithesome painted lovers dined
the cherry threes of alliance, eases me of that highly strung grind
our time run out before grave, but this cradle was timed
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