---

You terrify to me Mr. Hitchcock.
I despise You.
Other also see the way i see you.

Your presence makes my skin crawl.
I feel i may throw up.
Im sure you hear my gasp.
As your filthy feet they squash my face.

When you spy on your zombies across the road,
and their in the greatest bed time show,
and the curtain draws close.
And all this time there are hands constricting throats

And the blacklight goes down when the body is laid
in crushed velvet the next week.
And there's tape around the truth in your mouth
when they lay the coffin in the flames of funeral pyre

Just like we are in our win loose game
and there are daggers on us in between
with the pictures forn the words undone
your rotten smile engraved in my head.

So we close the windows then shatter the glass
and then loose the pieces so they'll never fit back.
So we'll sew up our mouths and cut off our ears.
Take out our lungs so we die
with our fears at purgatory.

And our wings burn and fallen angels
eclipse on their graves.
We've already died and they're not learning a thing.

You a hate born thing the darkness,
you were the only one
to reach down and pullme out
Dig deep and figure out
And then try to make it right and fail

---

Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.