Hollie

Paroles de « Hollie »

Verse

Stickers curling at the edges of your old guitar,
Every scratch across the finish is a quiet scar,
When the sky goes grey you drop the needle, let it spin,
And you play along the record till the rain gives in.

Chorus

Hollie, you don't say much,
But your hands say it all,
Six worn strings and a stubborn touch,
Loud inside these walls.
Hollie, when the words run dry,
You just turn it up and play,
Every chord's a patch of sky
On a grey, grey day.

Verse 2

Polaroids are pinned above the stack of vinyl sleeves,
Little moments that you caught before they took their leave,
And the frets are worn to silver where your fingers go,
It's a private kind of loud that no one else will know.

Chorus

Hollie, you don't say much,
But your hands say it all,
Six worn strings and a stubborn touch,
Loud inside these walls.
Hollie, when the words run dry,
You just turn it up and play,
Every chord's a patch of sky
On a grey, grey day.

Bridge

Then the sun comes back, you flip to the bright-day sleeve,
Faster songs and open windows, nothing left to grieve,
One more sticker lifting, so you press it with your thumb,
That guitar remembers every song you've ever strummed.

Chorus

Hollie, you don't say much,
But your hands say it all,
Six worn strings and a stubborn touch,
Loud inside these walls.
Hollie, when the words run dry,
You just turn it up and play,
Every chord's a patch of sky
On a grey, grey day.

Outro

Stickers peeling, strings gone grey,
Hollie, let your hands just play
All the things you'll never need to say.