Everyday it's Friday night I hold my body like a butcher knife Smiling for the camera eyes closed Doing anything you ask I suppose You tell me you would die to breathe me in I know there's no excuse for oxygen So I will make your bed my graveyard Let the world run through my soft parts
And I live at this faultline Between the edge of solitude and hope I'm shaking in a sentimental trope And all the stars apologize for night I don't blame them I've wanted to sometimes I don't know what to tell you where I've been My body's just a landscape for your sin And all the days regrets the city lights I know it's just the fault of the faultline
Every week keeps slipping by In this imitation paradise The angels make me sorry when I err From the way they want me everywhere Can't you see I'm sinking further in Wish you could reimburse my oxygen I gave you everything and then some more Left you with nothing to be looking for
Will I die at this faultline? Between the edge of entropy and woe I wanted everything so much it grows Until I can't manage this appetite I loved you so traumatically that I Can barely lift the world you left for me There's lots of ghosts I somehow still can see Holding onto me for our dear life All these bodies always touching mineTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
