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Wider Than The Frame - Alpine Decline
A thing we cannot name
Wider than the frame
Sitting in my chair
I feel the absence there
And it's hell
And it's hell
Knowing of your flight
Brings paleness to the light
The days are washed with bleach
The nights are without sleep
Beyond my fragile reach
To the future blindly
Beyond my gift for speech
Dragging you behind me
Something I cannot name
Then the touch of turpentine
Wider than the frame
Everything turns serpentine
And it's hell
And it's hell
It's hell
It's hell
