If all our life is but a dream
Fantastic posing greed
Then we should feed our jewelry to the sea
For diamonds do appear to be
Just like broken glass to me
Fantastic posing greed
Then we should feed our jewelry to the sea
For diamonds do appear to be
Just like broken glass to me
The ink is running toward the page
It's chasin' off the days
Look back at both feet
And that winding knee
I missed your skin when you were east
You clicked your heels and wished for me
Panic! really needs to get back together. Like... now. I swear, all you really need to make me love something is to make it unavailable. I don't really care that MJ died, but the fact that I can never go to a Panic! concert makes me miserable.
(Don't worry, it's just a tiny bit of miserable- the kind necessary for maintaining my malcontent status quo.)
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