Emma Ruth Rundle - Return

A rich belief that no one sees you Your ribbon cut from all the fates and Some hound of hell looking for handouts The breath between things no one says Author of a poor design No one to steady your hand All things lost in their own time Where have you gone to? Where have you gone to? Return to me Return again Return to me Return again, hey Some demimonde astride the crossing You’re reaching for a life-like face You stumble to thе cellar door and Your fragments glitter thе eyelids of a child Author of a poor design No one to steady your gaze And all the things a pound of flesh can’t buy Where have you gone to? Where have you gone to?