| We have a list, it goes like this
|
| We made a fist, it feels like this
|
| We built a cross, all hope was lost
|
| An albatross in semigloss
|
| We have a list, it goes like this
|
| We made a fist, it feels like this
|
| We built a cross, all hope was lost
|
| An albatross in semigloss
|
| Fantasy Nazarene
|
| Paint a line no one’s seen
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| A recipe for atrophy
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| Misinform happily
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| Precipice sisophis
|
| Paint a line with your fist
|
| Out of phase, an empty gaze
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| An act of rage from happier days
|
| When you have severed the only lines
|
| It’s a method that opens you up
|
| When you have severed the only lines
|
| It’s a method that cuts you up
|
| Ecstasy, plastiscene
|
| Carving lines that no one’s seen
|
| See your face, it’s wrapped in lace
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| It drifts away with lasting grace
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| Fantasy, misery
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| Treating wounds with wizardry
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| Out on your own, a jagged stone
|
| Cuts to the bone, that’s when you’ve know
|
| When you have severed the only lines
|
| It’s a method that opens you up
|
| When you have severed the only lines
|
| It’s a method that cuts you up
|
| (It's a method that cuts you up)
|
| (It's a method that cuts you up)
|
| (It's a method that cuts you up)
|
| (It's a method that cuts you up) |