Bend Your Arms to Look Like Wings
As the sun sets on battlefields
I hope you can save me
I hope you can save our wounded hearts
Distance makes my heart grow colder
Distance makes my heart grow older
Just enough to cut the air from your lungs
As the sun sets (we push and pull apart)
On battlefields (enough for this to end)
I hope you can save me (from ourselves)
I hope you can save us from ourselves
Denial in the arms of our saviours
And my heart is torn to pieces
Just enough to cut the air from your lungs
And paper cuts and bloody hands
In the middle they would meet
Writer/s: Funeral for a Friend
