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The Unhappy Video (MV)




Performed By: Subatlantic
Length: 4:35
Written by: Rebecca Rice




Subatlantic - The Unhappy Lyrics
Official




The terror in the tree
Knows me secretly
This withered witch's day
Has finally gone away
And, I keep on repeating
"I'm terribly fond of the sea, and I'm fond of you liking me"
Talk in empty space
Worn out and dated
The wine rings on the rug
Say 2:00 a.m. has come
And, I keep on repeating
"I'm terribly fond of the sea
And I'm fond of you liking me"
But, I want to be
Where the grass meets the sea, where we'll be whistling
Through the dead witch's weeds. And, before it all ends
Why can't we play pretend?
And, we'll roll up our sleeves before the unhappy, unhappy
This withered witch's day
Has finally gone away
The terror in the tree
Keeps my secrets for me
And, I still can't believe how your blue eyes can shatter me
But, I'm fond of you anyway
But, I want to be
Where the grass meets the sea, where we'll be whistling
Through the dead witch's weeds. And, before it all ends
Why can't we play pretend?
And, we'll roll up our sleeves before the unhappy, unhappy
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.




The terror in the tree
Knows me secretly
This withered witch's day
Has finally gone away
And, I keep on repeating
"I'm terribly fond of the sea, and I'm fond of you liking me"
Talk in empty space
Worn out and dated
The wine rings on the rug
Say 2:00 a.m. has come
And, I keep on repeating
"I'm terribly fond of the sea
And I'm fond of you liking me"
But, I want to be
Where the grass meets the sea, where we'll be whistling
Through the dead witch's weeds. And, before it all ends
Why can't we play pretend?
And, we'll roll up our sleeves before the unhappy, unhappy
This withered witch's day
Has finally gone away
The terror in the tree
Keeps my secrets for me
And, I still can't believe how your blue eyes can shatter me
But, I'm fond of you anyway
But, I want to be
Where the grass meets the sea, where we'll be whistling
Through the dead witch's weeds. And, before it all ends
Why can't we play pretend?
And, we'll roll up our sleeves before the unhappy, unhappy
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Rebecca Rice
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

Back to: Subatlantic

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