I'm dreaming of the sound of little mocking birds. Repeating what they heard,
wailing in the wind. Pleasing the thought of things that are absurd. Repeating what they heard,
secrets told to them. A sound I reminisce and lips I've yet to kiss, so much dissonance. A sound I
reminisce and lips I've yet to kiss, no self discipline. The meaning of it all, seeds I've never
sewn. Screaming what I know, wrapped up in silk. And such a paper heart, easily burned, writing
what I know, drifting away. A sound I reminisce and lips I've yet to kiss, so much dissonance. A
sound I reminisce and lips I've yet to kiss, no self discipline. A sound I reminisce and lips I've
yet to kiss, so much dissonance. A sound I reminisce and lips I've yet to kiss, no self discipline.
