A Tattered Line Of String

The Postal Service


We drained every dime, in the lower east side
And you failed to catch the train back to queens
So you came to my room
We did some things that we knew not to do
In the glow of the night’s golden cue

You’ve got the tattered line of string
And you tied round everything
That you want to call your own
But it never seems to hold

When we walk, we agreed
That we will not ever sṗeak of this night to anyone that we both knew
Then you said:
‘Every time we kissed, I felt something that couldn’t exist’
And I confessed that I thought I felt it too

I’ve got a tattered line of string
And I tied round everything
That I want to call your own
But it never seems to hold

I got a tattered line of string
And I tied round everything
That I want to call your own
But it never seems to hold

Everything
Everything
Never seems to hold
Never seems to hold

You’ve got the tattered line of string
And you tied round everything
That you want to call your own
But it never seems to hold

I got a tattered line of string
And I tied round everything
That I want to call your own
But it never seems to hold
Never seems to hold

Add to playlist Size Tab Print Correct