Sixpence None The Richer

Drifting

Sixpence None The Richer

This Beautiful Mess


drifting away from you
spinning down to the pinpoint drop of isolation
in a spell
walking away from the fire
that keeps my heart
from turning ice
golden feet grace the surface of the sea
sinking deeper i view them from underneath
flailing kicking as i head for the deep
i question a hypothetical lead supper
oh god receive my outstretched hand
will i inhale the blue
spinning down upon the glass
a ghost towards realization of a cell
enclosing the hauntings of a past
that blind the eyes
and rust the heart
so i fell
i need you to take my hand
and keep my heart from ice

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