Triple Crown Records | Into It. Over It. - "Breathing Patterns" (official audio) @triplecrownrecords | Uploaded September 2020 | Updated October 2024, 4 days ago.
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It’s so difficult to look back when every image is cracked.
Just a cover turning pages each day in my almanac.
You see, I move beside the shipwreck of where my years have gone wondering if fortune will smile upon me long enough to drag you along.
Your breathing patterns bring the sun.
New voices for when days are done.
You’ve filled my lungs.
For a cautious optimistic, I’m best kept as a party guest for now a welcome contribution;
You moving from east to west.
Your breathing patterns bring the sun.
New voices for when days are done.
You’ve filled my lungs.
If I stick to what I know then I’m just stuck to what I’ve done.
Still sore from being burned by every fire I’ve begun.
Every postcard is a post-war transmission and every word’s a new beginning.
I’ve destroyed my reputation, struck fear in the hearts of men and I’ve become a walking complication.
Can’t make those mistakes again.
Our breathing patterns bring the sun.
New voices for when you have gone.
You’ve filled my lungs.
'Figure' is out now! Grab a physical copy here: store.triplecrownrecords.com
Connect with Into It. Over It.
patreon.com/intoitoverit
facebook.com/intoitoverit
twitter.com/intoitoverit
instagram.com/intoitoverit
It’s so difficult to look back when every image is cracked.
Just a cover turning pages each day in my almanac.
You see, I move beside the shipwreck of where my years have gone wondering if fortune will smile upon me long enough to drag you along.
Your breathing patterns bring the sun.
New voices for when days are done.
You’ve filled my lungs.
For a cautious optimistic, I’m best kept as a party guest for now a welcome contribution;
You moving from east to west.
Your breathing patterns bring the sun.
New voices for when days are done.
You’ve filled my lungs.
If I stick to what I know then I’m just stuck to what I’ve done.
Still sore from being burned by every fire I’ve begun.
Every postcard is a post-war transmission and every word’s a new beginning.
I’ve destroyed my reputation, struck fear in the hearts of men and I’ve become a walking complication.
Can’t make those mistakes again.
Our breathing patterns bring the sun.
New voices for when you have gone.
You’ve filled my lungs.