Cries Too Hard Lyrics - Whitlams

Torch the moon, burn the schools 

She wrote in red on her bedroom wall, "Nothing's pure" 

The paint runs to the floor 

She laughs too easily and cries too hard 

Shouldn't drink alone, the colors run 

How can she forgive when we know well what we do? 

Feather scratches on her wrist 

Dry run with a bread knife for a final twist 

It wouldn't be for show if it should come to this 

She was born to feel it all, to see it all 

When I feel so lightly, it's still burning brightly 

And she won't look away