Lead - Leighton Groves: letras de canciones, vídeos musicales y conciertos

Lead

Leighton Groves

Pop/Rock2026

Detalles de la canción

Lead fue publicado el 28 de junio de 2026 por Leighton Groves como parte del álbum Informative Years

ÁlbumInformative Years

28 de junio de 2026

SelloLeighton Groves

IdiomaEnglish

BPM

Melodicidad

Acústico

Valence

Bailabilidad

Energía

RESUMEN

LETRAS

Letras

Eight months in and a helicopter later

before you’d point, say I always thought he was weird,

the backs of buses were heavy off Apache kissing

while you stomp it’s savant sister when the sun goes down.

Missed the pinhead sixty times with some practice,

you learned to love what comes from loaded guns.

Brass and deadbolts you laughed off of my bedroom

then sleep behind a kiln door to which your daddy holds the key.

You are high over a sunset mountain

High above your southern draw

High off your skinny weekend

You think I’m wrong.

Your smile climbs minds darkened wings of

an angel; sweet seventeenth in a neon synagogue.

I came in orange I came in wishing I were blind

to find a nightstand of an altar made with the boy we knew.

That night I found your name engraved on the blade in God’s spine.

You’re one to twist but you left him to drown

in the blood you drink from the mouths of monthly Sundays.

It’s raining trumpets and I left my windows down.

I am the dead man dying

I am every end untied

I am a grape shaken from the muscadine vine

You think I am dumb.

Had a dream you studied in Lake, Montana

and had another, one that didn’t come true.

I read your letters carved in grains of the barley

enough to stretch seams of these burlap lungs.

Wheat bouquets were addressed to Montana

picked from plains where we dug our own graves,

daisy chains tied into their forever

wrapped those and words I woke to regret:

I’ll be the sun in your sundress

I’ll drive a gap year into the ground

I’ll buy a bat from the heartbreak store,

now I think I’ve hurt myself.

When everything turns towards you and I mean everything

that you’re made to face yourself,

you may be alone or have a man at home

but you’ll still be alone in a world that left you.

If you’re waiting for a hallelujah,

there is your hallelujah.

I’ll still be the girl who fell in love

with a dying lightning bug

that fell off the don who danced on

Strickland Avenue–who the hell are you

dancing tightrope diatribe?

You’d learn every word in every language

but not a good reason why.

Drop my lungs through my brain

you know that won’t make you right.

Go, listen on The Mountain!

I am not flying I am fled

I go to sleep beneath the voice of a lamb

beneath the vale of a man.

The prayers we once swallowed

to never beg steal or borrow

you buy and I suffer

some vintage usurper.

One night you may finally wake to find

your windows all broken

and next year is gone again.

Written by: Leighton Groves

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