Video Foxs Dream Of The Log Flume Mewithoutyou With Haley Williams de Paramore 2024 Cristiana Lyrics

Paramore - Foxs Dream Of The Log Flume Mewithoutyou With Haley Williams Lyrics

Provisionally eyed
Practically alive
Mistook sign for signified
And so sins have often tried
To run him off a cliff like gadarene swine
Inside my wardrobe seem anchor bent
Wondering whether we were someone better then
Or maybe just better able to pretend
And what better means to our inevitable end?
You know?
I don't know if I know
Though some with certainty insist
No, certainty exists
Well, I'm certain enough of this
In the past fourteen years
There's only one girl I've kissed

And the blistering heat of the Asbury peer
We sat quiet as monks on the Ferris wheel
You're looking down at the water, down at the sea
I asked her "did that ever occur in fantasy?"
"Where you pushed little kids from the tops of the Ride?"
Then she shook her head "no", I said "oh, neither do I"
And with my Grandma's ring, I went down on one knee
And the subsequent catastrophe has since haunted me

Like a fibreglass ghost
To ask of my inconveniently selective memory
Forgetfully you
Mercifully withdrew
All the bearing points we thought we knew
Days run, days set clock
Our calm is shot
We sailed waywardly on
Singing our midnight archer songs
Until well past dawn
It's still dark on the deck of our boat
Haphazardly blown
Broken bows, our aimless arrow words
Don't mean a thing
Tonight I think it's pretty obvious that there's no God
And there's definitely a God

I dreamt on the rocks at the asbury dune
That you jumped from the top of the log flume
And they gather like wolves on the boardwalk below
They're howling for answers, no, wolf can know
I charged at the waves with a glass in my hand
I was tossed like a ball at the bottle stand
And I landed besides your remains on the stone
Where your cold finger, wrapped round my ankle bones
Maybe ten feet away was a star
Thousands of times the size of our sun
Exploding like party balloons
...?

Slept until our chest was full
Of yarn we, spun from Shetland wool
Socks from where the Dorset grows
Sheared and scoured hours
Before the rooster crows
The price of German silver fell
Threw this huge tailors down
The superstition well