Sorrow drips into your heart through a pinhole Just like a faucet that leaks and there is comfort in the sound

Artist- Death Cab For Cutie
Song of the day- Marching Bands of Manhattan

I know I just posted a death cab song, but I've recently been having a nice reunion with them and my ipod lately and can't seem to stop listening. Today's song feels a bit like my anthem during this crazy quarter of classes, ups and downs, and full on stressers. Plus having to start writing papers again has put me in a weird isolatory phase I remember from writing days of ol' and staying up till 3am with a box of powdered donuts, acquiring many bad habits and attempting to meet deadlines. Only this time I don't get to write about fantastical fictional occurrences created in my head or hipster bands I had crushes on, but medical jargon I'm still not too fond of. I think I hear the powdered donuts calling.



If I could open my arms
And span the length of the isle of Manhattan
I'd bring it to where you are
Making a lake of the East River and Hudson

And if I could open my mouth
Wide enough for a marching band to march out
They would make your name sing
And bend through alleys and bounce off all the buildings

I wish we could open our eyes
To see in all directions at the same time
Oh, what a beautiful view
If you were never aware of what was around you

And it is true what you say
That I live like a hermit in my own head
But when the sun shines again
I'll pull the curtains and blinds to let the light in

Sorrow drips into your heart through a pinhole
Just like a faucet that leaks and there is comfort in the sound
But while you debate half empty or half full
It slowly rises, your love is going to drown

Sorrow drips into your heart through a pinhole
Just like a faucet that leaks and there is comfort in the sound
But while you debate half empty or half full
It slowly rises, your love is going to drown

Sorrow drips into your heart through a pinhole
Just like a faucet that leaks and there is comfort in the sound
But while you debate half empty or half full
It slowly rises, your love is going to drown

Sorrow drips into your heart through a pinhole
Just like a faucet that leaks and there is comfort in the sound
But while you debate half empty or half full
It slowly rises, your love is going to drown

Your love is going to drown
Your love is going to drown
Your love is going to drown
Your love is going to drown
Your love is going to . . . .