February forgot me,
And I swore, myself,
I wouldn't give my conscience
The chance to look back.
But if you're asking me now:
I'd rather see you as the ice in my veins,
So I could watch you until you disappeared.
If you were standing by me as I walked away
You could have kept me if you wanted me here.
But at least I'm making strides where the trail is cold,
My hands curled fast around the warmth I hold.
Sometimes its like a brick behind my throat,
Now its the heat from her skin, beneath her clothes.
Writer(s): Calvin Philley, Dillon Hough, Evan Peak, James Moore, Will Allard
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