Fingers,hungry forhomes betweenthe ridges of yours,visit your palmsbut don't stay,just like a guestwho knowswhen to leave.Your fingersknow passageways,to the stringsin my heart.Of you, I spin the yarn.Of you, I become. - The Broken Clock
Fingers,hungry forhomes betweenthe ridges of yours,visit your palmsbut don't stay,just like a guestwho knowswhen to leave.Your fingersknow passageways,to the stringsin my heart.Of you, I spin the yarn.Of you, I become.
- The Broken Clock