Dive Deep into Creativity: Discover, Share, Inspire
Lorde Lyrics - Blog Posts
When Lorde said every perfect summer’s eating me alive until you’re gone and when she said summer slipped us underneath her tongue and and when she said it’s time to let go of this endless summer afternoon and when she said there’s a humming in this restless summer air and when she said that slow burn wait while it gets dark, bruising the sun and when she said we roll in every summer when there’s strength in our numbers and we roll in every summer like it’s shameful to be underneath a ceiling or a roof and when she said this is summer playing dumber than in fall and when she said you’re all gonna watch me disappear into the sun and when she said when the heat comes something takes a hold and when she said my hot blood’s been burning for so many summers now and when she said I just hope the sun will show us the path and when she said brain so hot it’s a summer body every day is blue and never cloudy and when she said I don’t wanna get lost I wanna worship the sun and when she said every perfect summer’s gotta say good night and every perfect summer’s gotta take it’s flight
I like to know that I've maimed you. Is it sadistic of me to like the thought of you wondering where I am every time you cross a road? I like to know that I've maimed you, ever since you told me anything related to books reminds you of me. I like to know that every time there are scribbles in the margin of an old book, It'll remind you of my handwriting you called unreadable. If you visit The Louvre, my blood remains spilt there too, for the countless number of times I've told you about running away to France. Every time you look at paintings hung up in museums, you'll think of how I painted you our bleeding hearts. Is it sadistic to know you'll think of how I am doing on your thirty second birthday because I jokingly told you how I felt like I wouldn't make it to blow the candles on my thirtieth? Is it sadistic of me to cherish how you'll think of me every time you pick up a book, even when you're covered with sun spots and gray? tell me, would it make you wonder what could've been, if you wrote us just a bit differently? for I know that I've maimed you darling, but is it sadistic of me to not regret it at all?
